


Colors

by AnotherGallavichLove



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Kissing, M/M, Post 6x01, Smut, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGallavichLove/pseuds/AnotherGallavichLove
Summary: Mickey returns home from prison, intending to solve things with Ian - a part of him even wishing that they would be able to work things out, maybe get back together. Of course, that's not at all what happens. Instead his attention is quite quickly drawn to the guy on his arm.





	1. Devoid of Color

“Dude” Iggy said, stopping the car next to the sidewalk before looking over towards his brother in the passenger seat. “I got work in like two hours and I haven’t been to sleep, you got it from here?” Mickey looked back at him before nodding.

 

“Yeah, man” He opened the door, leaving the small dufflebag inside of the vehicle, not bothering to bring it; he’d grab it whenever he got home - whenever, being the key word there. He just wasn’t so sure anymore - from his brother’s light commentary of the events that had passed in the few months since Mickey had been locked up in that fucking hellhole, he had grasped the fact that things weren’t exactly as they had been when he had left - whether that was a good thing or a bad one, he wasn’t sure.

 

Either way, going home to see Svetlana and the rest of his siblings - though he would inevitably have to do so - it just wasn’t something he wanted at the moment. This was all incredibly fucked up and strange, and the past however many days, weeks and months had turned Mickey completely upside down. Maybe completely was an exaggeration, but in any case, prison had been tougher than he had anticipated. He had made it through seemingly well, of course - especially since they had decided to let him out based on lack of evidence of some shit - and by the way, how in fucking hell could they even lock him up to begin with if they didn’t have that shit?

 

It didn’t make much sense, but it wasn’t something that Mickey chose to dwell on. If he were to sit down and go over every single event in the past year, inside and outside of that cell, he would drive himself crazy. Quite literally.

 

So he didn’t. Instead he figured that his best bet would be to try to get his life back to what it used to be - at least as much as he could.

 

Mickey slammed the car-door closed, and the brothers gave each other a small nod before Iggy stepped onto the gas, driving away towards the house while the younger man crossed his arms, looking around the dark street. He recognized it - of course. The alibi was only a few steps over, a couple of drunks stumbling outside of the bar every once in a while.

 

Small goosebumps seemed to form on Mickey’s skin, even underneath his shirt; the winter may have passed to the point where there was no longer a layer of snow on the ground, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t still cold at all. The thin black henley that he had had to put on after he had finally gotten out of that hideous fucking jumpsuit - wasn’t much. A part of him wanted to just say ‘Fuck it’ and head back to the house right now; at least then he would be certain to grab some sleep, but dealing with that - not just the people but the fucking memories and shit right this second, he just didn’t want to do it.

 

So Mickey sighed, shaking his head as he looked down at his heavy, black boots, the dark jeans disappearing into them. Then he looked back up, considering entering the alibi, just to see who was there. Maybe he would end up seeing Vee and Kev; Lana.

 

Quite quickly he changed his mind, just for the moment, and he fished his pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket, walking back to lean against the red brick wall behind him as he lit it, placing it in between his lips and breathing the smoke in, feeling it warm him up from the inside. It wasn’t that he was necessarily nervous to see people - he had lived here all his fucking life - but this felt different than when he had been in juvie and shit, and not only because he had been in prison this time, but because he had a feeling that this time - people had moved on, maybe forgetting about him.

 

Like since when the fuck did Iggy have an actual job? Mickey didn’t know.

 

The thoughts were deliberately shaken from his brain while he took another drag of the smoke, staring out across the street, seeing a couple of more half-drunk douchebags stumble out of the bar, and Mickey stared, only recognizing one of them. Maybe.

 

The cold air was still chilling Mickey’s skin, but he could barley feel it anymore. The smoke continued to warm his lungs up, the feeling slowly spreading all throughout his body.

 

After another five minutes - give or take - Mickey had had enough monkeying around, and he dropped the lit smoke to the ground, stomping it into the cold pavement before looking to either side of the street, then he crossed it, wrapping his hand around his wrist, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up to expose his forearms as he went. Just because he knew that it made him look somewhat more intimidating.

 

A small part of him wanted to hesitate right outside of the door, but he didn’t. Fuck, he couldn’t become some pussy just because he was somewhat unused to living this kind of life at this point; he just needed to do his usual routines and he would be back to normal in no time, he knew that.

 

So instead of hesitating, Mickey just reached forwards and let his hand wrap around the handle, tugging the door open, immediately feeling the warmer air on his face. It was a lot brighter in here as well - well, not more than it usually was, of course, it was still quite dim, but in comparison to the dark and late night, Mickey had to blink once or twice on his way over to the bar.

 

He didn’t look around much - or at all, really - he just saw a couple of the usual drunks from the corner of his eye, and other than that, he kept his eyes on the bar, because what he needed now was booze. Seriously; after being locked up for that fucking long, he needed to drink. He wasn’t sure if he would want to just feel a little bit less, or if he wanted to get black out drunk, he figured that he could decide along the way.

 

It wasn’t that he was depressed, necessarily. Just confused and fucked up and messed up and unsure where to go from here, but he’d figure it out another day.

 

“Mickey!” Kev nodded to him, an obviously quite surprised look on his face at seeing him in here so early - Mickey doubted that he had known about the whole fifteen year bullshit, though, but it didn’t matter anyway, because it had been just that - bullshit. Mickey wasn’t sure how they could have locked him up for months with such little evidence, no way in freezing cold hell they would have been able to keep him for fifteen years. “You’re out, good to see you in here again, man”

 

Mickey nodded back at him, sitting down onto one of the barstools and leaning his elbows onto the counter; like hell he felt like making conversation at the moment either, really.

 

“Yeah” He just said. “Whiskey” Kev nodded, seeming to understand that Mickey didn’t want to talk. And he turned around, reaching for a glass and a bottle of Jack, telling somebody else to calm their tits as they yelled for more alcohol. The glass and the full bottle was planted in front of Mickey, and when he looked up, Kev just winked at him casually, assuring him that it was alright; then he left him alone, going to serve somebody else.

 

Mickey brought his right hand up to his lips, looking at the alcohol while he used his thumb to rub his bottom lip in thought before reaching up to unscrew the top of the bottle, pouring some of the alcohol into the glass, swallowing almost all of it at once, feeling it burn all the way down his throat, a sigh escaping his mouth as he put it back down, pouring some more.

 

Maybe it wasn’t very smart of him to get blackout drunk the first night back - nor was he planning to, really - he just needed this right now, needed to feel that effect, even if he would stop before it got too powerful, and he needed to feel the burn in his mouth and throat, and he wanted to shake off some of the worry about wherever the fuck his life would end up leading him next.

 

Mickey knew that he should probably go to see Svetlana, if not tonight then at least tomorrow. He should probably try to be some kind of a father to Yevgeny, because though he doubted that he would ever earn a gold star in that area, he refused to be Terry. He needed to find a way to make money, maybe he would do his best to find something at least semi-legal, because it would suck to end up back in the can.

 

“Ah, fuck” The word was barely audible to even Mickey himself, but it passed his lips right before he lifted the alcohol back up to his lips, swallowing a third glass, shaking his head slightly as he placed it back down. It just felt like a lot - his life in general. It was a lot, a lot to do, a lot to think about. And then, there was also…

 

As if on fucking que or some shit, the door to the alibi opened up again, and Mickey turned around to look. Maybe because he somehow, in the back of his head wondered if it would be him, or maybe because it was a habit to check who entered.

 

And there he was. Fuck, Ian looked better than ever. With the red hair slightly shorter than Mickey remembered it being last, and a somewhat large smile on his face, he looked so fucking good.

 

It was almost as if Mickey had been thinking and over thinking the last few months of their relationship again and again and again, bored inside of that tiny fucking cell, just wanting to get out. Wanting to see him.

 

A part of Mickey knew that whatever kind of shit his boyfriend - ex boyfriend - had said that last time that he had visited him - it had been fucked up. And once in a while, the words still kind of echoed inside of Mickey’s head. ‘ _Svetlana paid me, so…_ ’ It had hurt - of fucking course it had hurt. After all of the ways in which Mickey had done his absolute best to be whatever Ian needed him to be, that’s what he got.

 

But at the time time, there was also another part of Mickey that wondered. Wondered whether or not he had done something wrong - there was no doubt he had, of course, but he meant on a bigger scale. Had he done something, that had driven Ian to seemingly resent him? Was there something that if he would be able to take it back - would it change anything? Thoughts like those ran throughout Mickey’s brain quite frequently, probably because he hadn’t had much else to do in the past few months.

 

Mickey hadn’t been able to do much else than just sit there and think, sit there and want Ian, wishing that he would be able to get out and he would be waiting for him - even if those words had been obvious lies, Mickey had just hoped that he would somehow end up changing his mind.

 

But there it was. Crystal clear. So clear that Mickey had to swallow down a lump in his throat, his fingers twitching towards the bottle again. Ian hadn’t waited.

 

Ian was smiling, he was happy. With his arm wrapped around somebody’s else’s waist. Some guy with big brown, curly hair and a smile that was quite obviously there because of Ian - and vice versa. There was no fucking doubt they were together. Mickey could feel his heart sinking; the very last bit of hope that he might have had stored up somewhere inside of him? It was all gone now - completely. Ian had forgotten about him.

 

Mickey cursed under his breath, turning back towards his drink, hoping that he had done it before Ian and whoever-the-actual-fuck had noticed him - it had seemed to be a successful mission, because he was left alone to pour himself another drink, staying in the same place for another five minutes, doing his best not to think about who was in the same room with him.

 

But still, as soon as Kev was close enough to his end of the bar, Mickey couldn’t help himself.

 

“You know the kid Ian’s with?” Maybe he was hoping that Kev would say ‘ _Yeah, yeah. He’s straight_ ’ or ‘ _Yeah, they’re just friends_ ’ or anything - really. Mickey wasn’t sure which, or even why he cared, honestly. Even he was smart enough to realize that whatever he and Ian had had at one point or another, most likely was over. Even if they would get back together, things would be fucked. Somehow that felt even more clear now than five minutes ago.

 

Kevin looked over Mickey’s shoulder for a beat, Mickey swallowing some more of the alcohol - pacing himself to make sure he wouldn’t pass the buzzed stage. Then he nodded, looking back down at Mickey.

 

“Yeah, that’s Trevor. Nice guy” He didn’t say anything more, seeing as he had some more customers to pour alcohol for, but the five words were enough for the lump inside of Mickey’s throat to grow even a little bit larger, and he shook his head to himself, staring back down into his glass, beating himself up internally. Fuck.

 

  
***

 

  
Fifteen - or maybe twenty - minutes later, Mickey was still at the same spot, his hand wrapped around the glass. He wasn’t drinking really at all, though, he was just holding it, staring into the yellow liquid. His mind wandered in and out, thinking about Lana, thinking about Mandy, about everything - Ian, too, of course, but he did his best not to let his brain spin on that for too long, he would end up going crazy for sure.

 

“Ian, did you see who’s back?” At Kev’s voice, Mickey immediately looked up at him once again, frowning. No. This is not fucking what he needed right now.

 

“Fuck. You” He hissed, but Kevin chuckled and walked towards the other end of the bar, it was as if he believed that he was doing them both a favor, like ripping off a bandaid or some shit - and who the hell knows if that would end up being the truth or not? Mickey would have preferred to just keep to himself for a week or something, but there was no turning back now.

 

So instead, he rolled his eyes, and he turned around on his chair. There he was again, only a few feet in front of Mickey now, as if he had been on his way out - which was probably why Kev had felt the need to stop him. Fucking asshole.

 

Despite having known Ian Gallagher for years, Mickey almost had to admit - he couldn’t read the look on his face now. It looked… fallen. Sad, or confused, or something along those lines. Mickey wasn't looking at whatever the fuck his new boytoy’s name was, but he could see his confused facial expression out of the corner of his eye as well.

 

“Mickey” Maybe Mickey could detect a slight question mark at the end of the word, but it was barely. So he shrugged, nodding. “How long have you been out?”

 

“Few hours” If they had been alone - well, as alone as they could get in a crowded bar - then maybe this wouldn’t have been half as awkward or uncomfortable, but as it was, Ian’s boyfriend didn’t seem to have any plans of leaving them alone. Maybe a small, tiny part of Mickey was happy. Because if he did that, then Mickey wouldn’t have anyone to blame the unfamiliarity on other than himself and Ian, and he would be forced to admit that whatever they had had was truly gone now. “Figured I’d get a drink before I head back to the house.” Fuck, this felt even worse than the last time they had talked. Through that fucking glass, or plastic or whatever the fuck; with Ian staring down onto the table.

 

“Out of where? Have you been in prison or something?” Mickey raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised at the causal tone of boytoy’s words; he turned his head slightly, looking at him. It was kind of fucked up how he just asked that - but then again, with Ian asking ‘How long have you been out?’ there weren’t many other options anyway.

 

“Yeah, few months” Mickey bit his tongue, trying to keep himself from grunting at the guy to leave them alone - he doubted Ian would agree to that anyway, and even so, Mickey wouldn’t be sure what to say. ‘So… do you still hate me for some unknown reason?’ or ‘How are you doing? Are you ready to forgive me for taking care of you yet?’ or ‘So you didn’t wait for me?’. Yeah. Maybe Mickey should do his best to stick to small talk for now, as fucking much as he despised it.

 

“Oh, okay. Congratulations, then” The guy gestured casually.

 

“He’s, um…” Ian turned towards the guy who’s name had now completely slipped Mickey’s mind - not that he had bothered to try to remember it at all. “He’s my ex” The way that those words just somehow were spat out of his mouth… Mickey had to dig his teeth into his bottom lip to keep from exploding - now not at the somewhat innocent bystander, but at the one who acted like they had resolved shit or whatever. They hadn’t - they obviously weren’t together anymore, but that fact didn’t make their breakup any less messy.

 

Maybe Mickey had expected the guy to raise his eyebrows, back away, or something like that. But he didn’t, instead he just nodded once, and then he reached a hand forwards, a friendly smile on his face while he looked at Mickey.

 

“I’m Trevor” The guy seemed extremely unaffected by the obvious chill in between Ian and Mickey, and for some reason, that just kind of rubbed off on at least one of them, and Mickey found himself grabbing his hand, giving it a quick shake as he nodded.

 

“Mickey”

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey had no fucking idea how it happened, but for some fucked up reason, a few minutes later, somehow they had all sat down in the booth where Ian and Trevor had been placed previously, each of them with a new drink in front of them. That wasn’t to say that the energy wasn’t awkward - it was - but it wasn’t silent. Mostly because of Ian’s boyfriend talking constantly - not in an annoying way to where you couldn’t get a word in or anything, but he was decent at holding a conversation. Mickey even dropped a comment or two in every once in a while, as well as Ian. Though, Ian was for the most part staring into his drink, or at Trevor, avoiding Mickey at all costs.

 

Mickey wasn’t sure if he was nervous, or ashamed, or if he just straight up no longer could stand Mickey’s presence - something that honestly didn’t make perfect sense - either way, it was obvious they weren’t in a much better place than they had been that day in the prison. Something that was most likely the fault of both of them, though Mickey decided not to dwell on it - he’d go insane.

 

So he sat by that table, contributing to the conversation in small amounts, listening to whatever the hell Trevor was saying, once in a while letting his eyes flicker back to Ian, but he never found green eyes looking back at him, not once. And as far as Ian’s new boyfriend went, maybe he didn’t seem like the most terrible guy in the world from a distance, but wrapped up in the mess of Ian and Mickey’s unresolved break up, and the mess that had gotten Mickey thrown into prison to begin with - not to mention the fact that they had barely said a single word to each other since they had met again - after close to an entire year - it all just added up to Mickey getting a bad taste in his mouth whenever he looked at who Ian had replaced him with.

 

So in reality, Mickey wasn’t sure why he was still sitting here, and a part of him was itching to run away. Then again, maybe a bigger part of him was hoping that if he stayed, just for a little bit, then somehow, at some kind of point in time, Ian would feel the need to say something, or just somehow end up looking at him, mistake or not. Maybe if he stayed, Mickey would end up leaving here less confused than before. But the biggest part of him - was the one that knew that he was completely and utterly lying to himself. This Ian - the one sitting across the table, he wasn’t who Mickey had been in love with - who he was in love with - he was somebody else entirely.

 

Somebody that Mickey didn’t know. At all. And it hurt; that fact hurt. Pretty fucking badly, actually. But at the end of the day, if Ian wanted to change, that was his choice. Mickey couldn’t just turn him back into who he used to be for his own benefit.

 

  
***

 

  
Eventually, though - after a little bit of a longer meaningless conversation than Mickey preferred, Ian was the one who ended up standing up to break it, mumbling that he should be getting home because he had work or some shit in the morning. Apparently he was an EMT now or something - like what the fuck? Ian had a new boyfriend, an actual fucking career - this all just about almost made Mickey feel as if he had indeed spent fifteen years locked up; so many things had changed and been turned around, just in a few months.

 

And had you asked Mickey even a long time afterwards, he probably wouldn’t have had any kind of idea how he had ended up walking out of that bar, his hands tucked deep down into the pockets of his jeans as Trevor walked beside him, Ian already on his way home in the other direction. To be fair - Trevor had said something about not wanting to crash yet, and he had followed Mickey a lot more than Mickey had invited him or whatever - but Mickey wasn’t screaming at him to leave him alone.

 

In fact - the more time he spent with the guy, the more he found he didn’t mind him. Well - he didn’t like him, not in the least, actually. Accepting or becoming friends his ex boyfriend’s new boyfriend? That was just… a difficult thing, Mickey wasn’t doing that shit. But Trevor continued to talk casually about random shit, and Mickey found himself listening, dropping the occasional comment, all the while doing his best not to think about Ian. Fuck.

 

“And a lot of them don’t have anywhere to live, so I’m the one that works my ass off to try to place them” Trevor finished talking about what he did for the homeless youth, turning to look at Mickey’s profile for a short second before turning his head back, making sure that he wouldn’t be staring at Ian’s ex for too long, even though a small part of him wanted to.

 

“That’s pretty cool, man” Mickey had to admit. In a way, he wished that he would be able to do something that meant something at some point.

 

  
***

 

  
“So…” Trevor said, breathing out some of the smoke, a small amount also escaping out through his nose as he looked out over the small field in front of them, Mickey taking another small swing of the bottle of Jack that he had grabbed from the bar right before they had all left - he wasn’t sure why he was still next to this guy an hour later, but he supposed it had just kind of happened.

 

Besides, he was still kind of dreading going home, seeing that house, and Lana, and that bed - he just… it would be better if he was drunk by the time he got there, so that he could just pass out. He wasn’t all that far from it at this point, either, which was probably the reason why he didn’t flinch at the question that left Trevor’s mouth next.

 

“Things seemed kind of weird between you and Ian - am I stepping in between something, or is that completely done?”

 

Mickey did his best not to let out an audible sigh while he brought his own cigarette up to his lips, staring out over the dark field; he couldn’t see much. Some shadows of some trees, and the grass right next to the car. The hood of the car was cold against his body, even through the fabric of the clothing on his body, a small amount of goosebumps developing quickly, though he didn’t care much. The smoke and the alcohol was succeeding in warming him up quite a bit.

 

“Nah, man that’s been over for a long time” Mickey shook his head; the truthful words probably stung a little less than they would have, had he been completely sober, but the sound of them leaving his own mouth still caused him to drop his gaze to the shiny hood in front of him, swallowing the small lump in his throat. “He’s all yours” He was - well, he sure as hell wasn’t all Mickey’s. He hadn’t been for a long, long time. Even before they had officially broken up.

 

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see about that” Mickey frowned, turing to look at him, seeing him place the cigarette back in between his lips, taking a drag as he stared out into the empty field. The words seemed as if they had been meant to be a thought, and honestly, hadn’t alcohol been a factor, they probably could have been. The Jack was a reason why Mickey had heard the words, and the Jack was the reason why he bothered to ask; even though he probably didn’t want to know.

 

“Why? Thought you guys were into each other or whatever” That’s what it had seemed like at the table - well, they hadn’t been calling each other ‘babe’ or anything - which was a good thing because it would have driven Mickey insane, but he had noted Ian’s arm around Trevor’s shoulders at one point. The same shoulders that lifted and fell, shrugging at Mickey’s question.

 

Mickey turned his head back, looking straight ahead, bringing his cigarette to his lips and breathing the drug in while he waited for an answer. Not that he wanted one, or needed one - maybe knowing what exactly was going on between the two of them would make him feel worse, or better - either way he took another swing of the alcohol, hoping that whatever would be revealed, he could forget it tomorrow. This had been a weird fucking night, to say the least.

 

“We’re not really together - well, we are, but it’s not serious. It’s only been a month, and he still seems kind of uncomfortable with the whole trans thing, you know” Mickey raised his eyebrows, his arm hanging over his knee, cigarette in between his middle and index finger as he looked at the guy, surprised.

 

“What - what, you’re trans? Like you used to be a chick?” He asked, Trevor’s mouth being pulled up into a smile at the words; then he nodded his head a few times, turning it as well, their eyes connecting through the darkness.

 

“Well, I was never _actually_ a chick. But, yeah” He confirmed, looking down at his chest, holding the smoke in one hand while he picked up the necklace in the other. “That’s what this thing is about, right?”

 

Mickey inched himself a little bit closer, just to take a look. Then he hummed, nodding.

 

“Never would have fucking guessed, man” He wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing to say. Either way, that was pretty cool, too. The only other transgender person he had ever known was Molly, and he hadn’t seen her in years. For some reason, the longer he spent with Trevor, the more he felt that maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. As much as he hated that Ian had went and found himself a boyfriend that was actually a great person - that seemed to be exactly what had happened.

 

Mickey couldn’t stand a lot of people - but this guy was cool.

 

By the time he looked back up, their eyes connected again, only for a short second and then Mickey’s flickered over his face, looking at his earring and his hair before he found himself focusing on the big brown eyes once again.

 

For a short moment, it was as if everything was still; the wind could be heard somewhere in the distance, but right there, it was still. Then Trevor moved closer to Mickey, his eyes falling closed, lips parting slightly, going for Mickey’s.

 

Thankfully, Mickey was quick enough to shake his head, backing up to avoid it. Trevor frowned for a short beat, and then they both snorted.

 

“We’re not doing that shit, man. I’m fucking drunk off my ass” They both were. Trevor put the cigarette back up to his lips, looking out over the field once again while he nodded.

 

“You’re right, sorry”

 

Though, a few minutes later, Mickey turned to look at him, and as he took in the view of his profile in the darkness, he couldn’t help but get a weird kind of feeling inside of his body. One he forced himself to blame on the alcohol. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because like hell I'm letting canon Ian end up with the one somewhat decent character they've come up with in years. No. This is happening. (Also, I don't watch the show, so I will get details wrong, I just kind of flipped through the scenes. Nor will I pay much attention to canon as far as minor characters go or whatever. And if Trevor ends up being an asshole in future canon, that's not this Trevor okay? lmao)
> 
> This isn't a full on long fic either, I'm aiming for 5 chapters. It could be three or seven. One of those, we'll see.
> 
> I feel like people aren't going to like this or care for it, but I wanted to do it. So there it is.
> 
> <3


	2. You're Spending All Your Time In This Wrong Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Trevor fucking dumped your ass?” Mickey asked, voice surprisingly steady. “That why you’re here with me? ‘Cause you’re lonely?” Ian licked his lips, almost as if he was trying to figure out what to say next, how to lie his way out of this one - because they both knew that it was the truth.
> 
> Two days ago, Ian hadn’t given Mickey the time of day, and now here he fucking was. Like hell it would have ever happened if Trevor hadn’t dumped him. Fuck.
> 
> “Fuck you, man” Mickey shook his head, a bitter smile covering his lips, his voice almost a whisper, full of anger and disbelief. “Fuck you”

A small amount of rain threatened in the air above Mickey’s head while he walked along the sidewalk, the daylight just barley starting to fade now; the thick green jacket sat on his upper body, shielding him from the cold that was beginning to appear in Chicago at this point.

 

He had his hand up by his lips, a cigarette slipped in between his middle and index finger, the warm smoke filling his lungs; he had been home for almost two whole weeks at this point, and he had to admit that the longer he was here, the more he kind of just fell into the usual routine, and thereby, he didn’t feel as weird as he had the first night back.

 

Mickey’s relationship with Svetlana and Yevgeny had just kind of snapped back into place within the first few days, and they had a pretty well rehearsed routine at this point in taking care of the kid - Iggy actually helped a lot as well, which Mickey was surprised by. But he supposed that it had just kind of happened while he had been away; Lana needing more help and his brother stepping up.

 

Mickey hadn’t talked to Ian, of course - or even seen him, really. Well, being that Kev had given Mickey a job at the alibi, he had happened to see him and his boyfriend once in a while, but it was from a far, and Mickey honestly kind of did what he could to keep from it. It was just weird.

 

It hadn’t been a terribly long time since he and Ian had been together - in love, even - and now, Ian was with somebody else, and he didn’t like Mickey, maybe he couldn’t even stand him, and Mickey was still kind of confused about what exactly he had done so wrong - hell, it was all a mess. It was a strange situation, and for now, Mickey just didn’t want to deal with it. It wasn’t worth it.

 

All he wanted to do was work, take care of his kid and sleep - just try to get that routine down, and so far, that had all actually worked out quite well.

 

A small drop of rain painted Mickey’s cheek as he walked, and he reached up to wipe it away, the coldness spreading over a small area before it dried up, his feet moving a little bit faster as he wanted to get to work before it would inevitably start pouring down from the grey sky above. His free hand twitched towards his pocket to grab a hold of the knitted hat that laid in there, but he changed his mind quite quickly, knowing that he wasn’t far from the alibi at all.

 

The way that he would usually walk to get there, though, had been all fucked up for the past week, a huge hole in the ground. Mickey wasn’t totally sure of what they were doing, but he guessed that it had something to do with running water, or electricity - something like that. He could make his way through the machines and shit if he wanted to, but there was an easier way, though it was a little bit longer.

 

This other way, though - caused Mickey to have to pass the Gallagher and the Ball houses. Mickey forced himself not to think about it a lot as he took another drag of the cigarette turning onto the street while hoping that he wouldn’t have to pass anybody he didn’t want to see - even seeing Ian’s siblings bothered Mickey. Not because he didn’t like them, they were cool - well, except for Lip - but seeing them was just a reminder of when he used to wake up next to Ian and have breakfast with them all and that shit.

 

Mickey did his best to get over Ian, of course - at this point, he had since long figured out that Ian was into Trevor, and that Ian and Mickey would never again be a thing, and honestly - Mickey didn’t even want that anymore. He had his life, his routine, his own family - he was cool as long as he didn’t have any major reminders. The only thing that did bother him was that he didn’t know what he had done to make Ian quite obviously hate him - or at the very least dislike him - so much. Like hell it was because of his bitch ass sister - half sister, step sister or whatever the fuck - , there had to be something else to it. But then again, maybe that was a question Mickey would never have an answer to, and maybe he had to live with that.

 

Either way, he walked, wrapped up inside of his own mind and his own thoughts, taking the occasional drag of the cigarette, breathing the drug in and feeling the smoke warm up the inside of his lungs, and then out. His lips were parted, the grey shapes escaping out through his mouth, some of it through his nose. The sound of rushing cars were in the distance, the soles of his shoes scraping against the sidewalk with every step he took.

 

Mickey passed a few houses, not even thinking about the two on the street that he knew, he was too busy. Thinking about Lana, Yevgeny, work - something of those, or maybe all of them at once. Either way, he wasn’t aware of his surroundings. Not until;

 

“Hey!” Mickey stopped at the sound of the voice, straightening up some more. A part of him recognized the voice, and another one felt as if he didn’t, so he turned around, having just passed the Gallagher gate by a few meters. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion until he saw Trevor walk down the porch steps, and then out onto the sidewalk.

 

“What’s up, man” Mickey greeted, placing the cigarette back in between his lips. He didn’t mind Trevor - not at all, actually. They didn’t necessarily speak on a regular basis, nor would they ever hang out just to hang out - but Ian and him would come into the alibi sometimes when Mickey was working, and despite Ian’s cold demeanour, Trevor would nod at him, or wave. He seemed cool - and Mickey couldn’t stand a lot of people, especially not ones that were dating his ex, so him being completely okay with Trevor had to mean a lot.

 

“Are you going to work?” Mickey nodded at the question, some smoke escaping his nose. “My car’s down there, can I walk with you?” Mickey shrugged at that, and turned around, the two of them starting to walk down the street next to each other.

 

“You want a smoke?” Trevor accepted the offer, placing the unlit cigarette in between his lips, the men stopping for a short second so that Mickey could also fish his lighter out of his pocket, reaching up to light it for him.

 

Mickey was completely focused on lighting the smoke, watching the small flame. So thankfully, he wasn’t aware of the way that Trevor’s eyes wandered over his features for a short moment before he snapped out of it.

 

“Thanks” Mickey grunted, placing his own fingers back around his cigarette, breathing some more of the drug in, the rain thankfully not seeming to pick up very quickly at all; the grey pavement was just kind of splattered with darker areas in few places, the drops hitting Mickey’s skin every once in a while, not enough to bother him.

 

Mickey and Trevor walked in comfortable silence - said silence most likely due to the fact that Trevor seemed to have figured out that Mickey wasn’t really a person who liked to talk a whole lot, in contrast to himself. As they got a little bit closer to the alibi, though, Trevor did open his mouth;

 

“So did you work in here before you went to jail too?” For the fucking life of him, Mickey would never be able to figure out why people felt that they needed to know shit about his life - about anybody’s life, really. Mickey could ask this guy a fuck ton of things - about the fact that he was born a chick, about why he seemed to live in his car - but he didn’t. Not because he didn’t want to pry, but because he just… didn’t care much. He didn’t have a need to know, they weren’t even friends.

 

Alas, despite those thoughts, the question didn’t bother Mickey, he just didn’t understand why he would care. So he shrugged, taking another drag of the cigarette before nodding.

 

“Yeah” Technically it wasn’t a lie. Just because he had been doing another kind of work, didn’t mean he hadn’t been working inside of the alibi, so - yeah. Mickey decided, the answer was yes. Besides, it would kind of suck to explain what he used to do - mainly it would suck to hear the words come out of his own mouth. Not because he was embarrassed, or because it was wrong - but because it for some reason felt like a different lifetime or some shit.

 

Walking inside of the bar, Mickey had seen Trevor’s car where it was parked close to the sidewalk at the end of the street. Probably left there after a late night when he had gone home with - no, fuck. Mickey had since long decided he wasn’t going to dwell on anybody by the name of Ian Gallagher, and he wouldn’t. Fuck that shit, he had his own problems. Problems he could actually fix; the ones that he couldn’t were better left alone for the moment being.

 

Anyway - despite said car being clearly in view, Mickey sensed and heard his steps following him inside of the alibi.

 

They were greeted by the regular mess of half drunken slobs - it wasn’t too late at night yet, so there weren’t too many people inside yet - usually later on, the place would fill up with younger people and teenagers. Not that Mickey was sure why the fuck they would want to spend their time in a shithole like this one.

 

“Get you something?” Mickey asked Trevor over his shoulder as he took his jacket off, throwing it over a chair, feeling the slight warmth of the building reduce the goosebumps on his skin that had appeared even under the jacket - fuck, with every day that passed, it was as if it only got colder and colder and colder. Which was true, but that didn’t mean that Mickey had to like it.

 

Mickey pushed the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, then he ruffled his fingers through the dark hair on top of his head, attempting to get rid of some of the rain water that had fallen down; it had been good timing for him to go to work now, because it seemed to be pouring outside right now. Mickey just fucking hoped that it could stop before he had to walk all the way home again; he could call Iggy, he supposed, but it would suck to have to do that. Their family should find a way to get another car, just having the one wasn’t really working out.

 

Mickey thought that he heard the other man say something about a beer, so he walked behind the bar and grabbed one, cracking it open to place it in front of him before then moving on to the other requests, pouring some whiskey and beer and causing the already half-passed out slobs to become even more drunk - whatever, it wasn’t Mickey’s responsibility to keep them healthy or alive or some shit.

 

“Are you a fan?” Mickey frowned at the question that came from his ex boyfriend’s new boyfriend’s mouth - fuck, that was a lot. Maybe Mickey should just learn how to scratch that long road in his head and go with ‘Trevor’ that was probably better. He finished pouring some whiskey into another glass, sliding it in front of a customer before turning back to him, watching him put the bottle of beer to his mouth as he watched Mickey.

 

“Fan of what?” Trevor nodded to Mickey’s shirt, causing him to look down, trying to remember what he was wearing; he had just grabbed whatever from the floor of his bedroom this morning; it was probably Iggy’s shirt, honestly - or maybe it had been his own at some point, and then Iggy’s and then his own again - fuck if he knew, the brothers didn’t keep track of their clothes for shit.

 

“I guess, his music’s cool. Pretty sure it’s my brother’s shirt, though. Can never keep track of shit” Mickey shrugged, looking away from Ozzy’s face, turning around towards the beer, reaching to grab a bottle for himself, mostly just because he was bored and there wasn’t a lot to do around here at the moment - well, he could clean, or do the dishes, but honestly, fuck that shit. He had been getting away with only serving for a few weeks, he was sure he could do it longer.

 

“I know that feeling” Trevor stated. “I actually went to a concert of his with some friends a while ago, though, it was really fun, so…”

 

The next hour or two just kind of… passed. Quickly. Mickey continued to serve some alcohol - to the drunks, to Trevor, to himself, to other people who stumbled in as the hour got later. At the moment, he was the only one working, so it was calm. Kev wasn’t there to yell at him about not cleaning the spilled beer up from the floor or whatever the fuck.

 

Trevor stayed seated by the bar, talking to Mickey, Mickey answering, the two of them chuckling or even laughing every once in a while. It was strange, it felt oddly normal. Like - like they were friends. Simple as fucking that.

 

  
***

 

  
A day or so passed after the night that Mickey and Trevor had hung out at the alibi - maybe two days, even. And the darkness had once again fallen outside of the window, Ian and Trevor tangled together on top of Ian’s small bed, his siblings for once leaving them alone, off to deal with their own lives, whatever the hell that meant. Their arms were wrapped around each other’s bodies, the short, slight red stubble that was spread over Ian’s jaw scratching Trevor’s face a little bit as they made out, their tongues sliding over each other’s, Ian’s tongue dominating his mouth.

 

Trevor’s arm was thrown around Ian’s neck, his fingers brushing through some of the strands of hair, tugging slightly. He was kissing back - of course he was - and it felt good, it always did. But he wasn’t all in it tonight, not at all. He did his best to deepen the kiss, and to suck Ian’s lips into his mouth; he tugged harder at the hair, hoping that it would cause something to snap inside of him, but it was as if it just wasn’t fucking happening.

 

Ian’s hand was curled around his hip, the other one resting on his neck, his lips and teeth and tongue eating at Trevor’s, not seeming to notice that anything was off at all. But then again, this wasn’t the first time, really. In the beginning of their relationship, things had been fucking great. The first week, the first kiss, the first month, even - but lately, Trevor had just felt as if he could take it or leave it.

 

Not that Ian wasn’t hot, or that he wasn’t a good guy - he was both of those things, really. Technically, Trevor should be so fucking in love with him by now - or at least getting there, but… he just wasn’t. The confusing thing was that he wasn’t feeling like this all the time, sometimes things were amazing, but then there were nights like this one. Where they were kissing, and touching and making out, and even giving each other hickeys, but deep inside, Trevor just felt… eh. It just wasn’t at all what it had been in the first few weeks, and as much as he hated admitting it - even to himself - the feeling had slowly grown stronger since Ian’s ex had come into the picture.

 

“Come on, what’s wrong?” As Trevor’s thoughts had gone deeper and deeper, and further away from the room, he had subconsciously stopped kissing back, and Ian was frowning down at him, a small peace of red hair resting on the skin of his forehead, their mouths still close enough together that the words fanned over Trevor’s mouth as his boyfriend spoke, voice low and somewhat whispering.

 

Trevor looked up into the eyes - sometimes they looked blue, and sometimes they looked green; for the most part, he perceived them as green - and he licked his lips, shaking his head, the eye contact breaking just for a moment before it was re-stated, his fingers brushing through the hair before falling down onto the pillow above his own head.

 

“Ian, I just…” Trevor wasn’t sure how to put this, what to say. Other than to just tell him the truth - and now, before he changed his mind again. “This isn’t really working out anymore, is it?” A part of him wanted to take it back the second that he heard his own words - because in a lot of ways, Ian was great. But another part of Trevor was hyper aware of the fact that if it didn’t feel right a couple of months into the relationship - it never would, and in the end, he was wasting his time. It had happened with other guys before, and he didn’t want to go through that realization again.

 

“What?” Ian’s face immediately grew harder - not with anger, but… yeah, actually. Maybe it was anger. And he sat up a little bit more, his flat palm planted onto the pillow beside Trevor’s head, half sitting above him instead of their bodies lying down, pressed against each other. Their eyes were still connected, and while Ian was trying to figure out what exactly the other man was getting at, Trevor did his best to sort through his messed up head and find the right way to put this. “You’re fucking dumping me?”

 

Doing this while they were together in bed was fucked up - maybe Trevor should have done it later. Or sooner - but he had tried a couple of times, and he fucking always ended up chickening out, because Ian would say something half sweet, or give him a kiss, or something along those lines, and Trevor would change his mind. But those moments were fewer and further in between than the ones that made him question it all.

 

“S…” Trevor had a ‘sorry’ on his tongue, but he backed out - sorry wasn’t going to fix anything, in fact, it would kind of be a lie. He was sorry that he somehow ended up doing this like this, but he wasn’t sorry about the fact that he was doing it. “Look” He sighed, pushing himself up, until they were both sitting on the bed, looking at each other. “Yeah. It’s not working out, Ian - even you have to feel that” They had been so fucking good together in the beginning, it had been fun and all of that, but now - the space in between them, even when they were kissing with their limbs wrapped around each other’s bodies - it couldn’t be missed.

 

Ian was silent for a second, seeming to grind his teeth together by the way in which his jaw was moving. Then he opened his mouth, staring Trevor dead in the eyes.

 

“Is this about him?” Maybe Trevor would have needed some kind of clarification, but by the way that Ian had spit out the word ‘him’ they both knew exactly who they were talking about. Trevor had never been a person who was a good liar, or good at hiding things - even if he had wanted to, which he usually tried not to. This… crush, or fascination, or whatever it was, it wasn’t anything that he had been able to help, of course he had done his best to hide it, but at the end of the day, that wasn’t who he was. He had always been a pretty open person - with everybody. Ever since he had been in his early teens, figuring out that he wasn’t who everybody saw him as. “You don’t think I see the way you look at him sometimes?” Ian continued, standing up and running his hands through his hair.

 

“No” Was what Trevor ended up stating, though, which wasn’t a lie, actually. Had Trevor looked into those blue eyes and wondered what they would look like filled with something softer? Sure. Had Trevor looked at the different shirts the guy wore, or the way he walked, and had wondered about him, wanted to know more? Sure. But Trevor dumping Ian didn’t have much to do with anyone else outside of their relationship - if anything. It was about them. Him. “It’s not about anyone else, it’s about you. About me - I don’t know. It’s just not working anymore, Ian. I’m wasting my time with you, okay? And so are you, because this isn’t going anywhere”

 

After that, there was silence. Ian looked at Trevor, and Trevor looked at Ian - the taller man’s face even softened a little bit, maybe with realization that Trevor wasn’t trying to hurt him. And that he was completely right about this. And that was it.

 

Maybe it should have been more dramatic, but honestly - they had only been together with barely two months. Maybe Trevor could have fallen in love with Ian - that’s what he had thought in the beginning, and maybe it could have happened the other way around as well. But it hadn’t. It just wasn’t working out - it would never work out. And it was so much better to do this now than to stay in this for another day.

 

So that was it. As Trevor swallowed and stood up, picking his shirt back up and then his packer, putting the silicone package back into his boxers before reaching for his jeans as well. Ian stood to the side, maybe turning things over in his head, maybe finding that he agreed with this.

 

And as Trevor walked out of that room - they were over.

 

  
***

 

  
Mickey was laid out on his bed, back pressed against the cool covers while he stared up into the ceiling. It was nighttime now, but he hadn’t moved in a couple of hours; instead he stayed there, chain-smoking cigarette after cigarette, a couple of empty beer bottles on the table next to him. It felt good in a way - he had felt off pattern since he had gotten back, but this was how he had spent a large amount of time as he had grown up, it was secure to be back.

 

The black wifebeater fit somewhat more loosely around his body, along with his boxers; he must have lost some weight from those first few weeks in prison where he would only poke around the food and stare out the inmates - fuck, he had been missing Ian so much. It was so strange - to be back here, to be back in his old routine, but nothing was ‘old’ all of it was new. The people around here had the same faces, but they weren’t ‘same old, same old’.

 

Ian had Trevor, and Svetlana had something fucked up going on with Vee and Kev - not that that was anything that Mickey would ever bring himself to give a shit about - he didn’t want to know what all of that was about. His brothers had legitimate jobs - crappy jobs, but legitimate - and the Gallagher kids, from what Mickey had seen the few times he had caught them running about town, had grown up quite a bit as well.

 

Fuck, sometimes it even felt as if Mickey had been gone for a few years rather than a few months. Like he was all fucked up in the head.

 

He put the quickly shrinking cigarette back up to his lips, breathing the smoke in as his eyes continued searching the ceiling; the rain had been hiding for a few days, but now it was pouring down again. It wasn’t a storm, though enough that he could hear the wash of the water falling down onto the glass surface of the window.

 

Mickey wasn’t sad with how his life looked at the moment - not at all, in fact. But that didn’t change the fact that he was still getting used to it. Getting used to being single, getting used to having at least somewhat of a legal job, getting used to taking care of his son - all of that shit. And if he was being honest, then;

 

The thought-trail was brutally interrupted by a heavy, and even somewhat frantic knocking on the front door of the Milkovich house. Mickey sighed at the noise, turning his head to look towards the doorway of his room, listening better, hearing it stop and then start again. He shook his head, looking back up at the ceiling and breathing in some more of the smoke, doing his best to ignore whoever was at the door. He really didn’t feel like getting up.

 

The knocking stopped and resumed a couple of more times while Mickey let some of the smoke escape out through his nose, watching the way in which it behaved, dancing, curling into different shapes right in front of his face before finally disappearing into thin air, nowhere to be seen anymore. The knocking grew even heavier, a muffled ‘Mickey!’ coming with the sound. So muffled and far away that Mickey could just barely make out the word, not at all who was calling him, wanting him to open.

 

But whoever it was obviously wouldn’t give up, and they knew he was in here, so finally, Mickey cracked. He sighed defeatedly, pushing himself up to sit, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed before putting the short cigarette out and standing up, heading out through the dim, empty house. He couldn’t be bothered to put on pants, and instead just walked up to the door in his boxers, figuring that whoever it was, he could just yell at them to stop bothering him. Maybe it was Kev, asking something about the bar or some shit, hell if he knew.

 

Mickey was proven wrong the second he swung the door open. It wasn’t Kev. It was much worse; a sight that surprised him even more than the sudden chill his bare legs and arms got from the cold, rainy air seeping into the house through the open door. It was someone he wasn’t sure how to greet - how to say anything to.

 

“Ian” The word - the name - had little to no emotion to it. Because Mickey didn’t know what the fuck to think. Since he had gotten back from prison, Ian hadn’t looked at him - much less spoken to him - and even before he had been locked up, things had started to go south. But now, here he was. Right in front of Mickey, running a hand through the rain-soaked hair, a look on his face that Mickey wasn’t sure how to interpret.

 

Nor was he sure how to interpret the wetness in his eyes, but he had a strong feeling that it wasn’t just rain.

 

“I miss you” Mickey frowned, trying to process the words; the tone of Ian’s voice. It wasn’t cracking, he didn’t sound heartbroken - but he still kind of did sound genuine. Those three words should have been fucking music to Mickey’s ears - and in a way, they were. It was what he had wanted to hear for months, now.

 

Yet, he couldn’t help but wonder why. Why the fuck now, why tonight, and why like this. When Mickey had just started to get back onto the right track of just being single, and living his life doing whatever the hell he needed to. More confusion around Ian was honestly kind of the last thing that he needed at the moment.

 

“Mick, I - I’m so fucking sorry” This time, Ian’s voice did crack, just a little bit. And he took a couple of steps out of the rain, inside of the house. As he spoke, he placed both of his hands onto Mickey’s shoulders, resting slightly against his neck, their foreheads hovering close together. Mickey couldn’t bring himself to hold him back, but he also couldn’t bring himself to push him away.

 

This was all out of nowhere - completely. Two nights ago, at the very longest, Ian and Mickey had been in the same bar, and Ian had completely ignored Mickey, he had been so incredibly cold, just like he always was these days. And that was okay - Ian hated Mickey, Mickey got it. He didn’t get why, but he got that it was the case. And now - what the fuck?

 

But at the same time, just the touch of Ian’s fingertips against his neck, his breath fanning his lips, it didn’t feel wrong - it wasn’t confusing. It felt good; it was something he remembered from a long time ago.

 

“I’m sorry” Ian whispered again. “Take me back” Mickey couldn’t bring himself to answer verbally, because fuck, yes. Fuck, he wanted them to be what they used to be. So instead of saying anything, he just surged up to press his lips against Ian’s, feeling that familiar burn throughout his entire body; the special one, the one that he had only ever felt with one person before.

 

The rain continued pouring outside, slamming down onto the windows as they kissed and kissed, their tongues sliding over each other’s, hands wandering over their clothed bodies, their noses pressed against each other’s cheeks.

 

Then Mickey realized something, just a few seconds later, and he broke the kiss, breathless, their faces still incredibly close together, eyes not even completely open.

 

“Wait, wait” Mickey breathed heavily. “You got a boyfriend, man. What about him?” Normally, he wouldn’t give half of a fucking shit about whether Ian had a boyfriend or not, he wouldn’t give a shit about the punk’s feelings, as long as him and Ian were happy, because Ian was his. But in this case - Mickey knew Trevor. Trevor was a good guy, so it just kind of felt fucked up to hook up with his boyfriend, no matter what the circumstances were.

 

“He broke up with me, we’re good” Ian promised, going in for another kiss. Mickey stopped him.

 

Their hands relaxed on each other’s bodies, their faces a lot further apart as they looked into each other’s eyes through the dark house, their stares filled with confusion for completely different reasons. They continued to breathe heavily, silence in between them for a short moment.

 

“Trevor fucking dumped your ass?” Mickey asked, voice surprisingly steady. “That why you’re here with me? ‘Cause you’re lonely?” Ian licked his lips, almost as if he was trying to figure out what to say next, how to lie his way out of this one - because they both knew that it was the truth.

 

Two days ago, Ian hadn’t given Mickey the time of day, and now here he fucking was. Like hell it would have ever happened if Trevor hadn’t dumped him. Fuck.

 

“Fuck you, man” Mickey shook his head, a bitter smile covering his lips, his voice almost a whisper, full of anger and disbelief. “Fuck you”

 

“Mick, I - “

 

“Nah, man. I’m not doing this shit, get out” Mickey let go of Ian completely, crossing his arms over his chest, watching his ex boyfriend sigh and turn around, walking out of the house, back out into the rain, the door slamming after him, leaving Mickey alone again. In a dark and empty house.

 

But for the first time, Mickey figured that maybe having a dark and lonely house all to himself was a lot better than sharing it with somebody who was there only because they couldn’t be where they wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't decide if this is going too fast or anything, but this was never meant to be a full length fic even though I feel like that's how I'm writing it at the moment lol. We'll see. 
> 
> <3


	3. Hypotheticality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And in that moment, Mickey realized the reason why he had subconsciously - or possibly somewhat consciously - avoided looking at him as much as he could in the past half hour.
> 
> Because the boy was fucking beautiful, and if he allowed himself to register that fact, his life would be fucked up a thousand times more than it already was.

After Mickey threw Ian out on his ass that night, he went back into his room and he went to sleep - feeling oddly more at peace than he had been in a long time. And before he knew it, a week had passed. And then another one. And then a few more days after that; life just kind of moved on, and he moved on with it.

 

Nothing super exciting happened or anything - Mickey went to work, he and Svetlana passed Yevgeny back and forth, he went on some runs with his brothers - making sure that they were small ones, and that he wouldn’t get caught, of course. Like hell he was going back to prison.

 

All in all, things weren’t all that bad. And believe it or not - Mickey was beginning to believe that maybe he was even starting to let go of Ian a little bit. He saw him, of course - you couldn’t just share a life with someone for over three years, break up, still live in the same area and not run into each other - but they never talked. Maybe Ian was embarrassed, but Mickey supposed that that was too much to hope for.

 

Whenever Mickey saw Ian, though - it didn’t hurt as much as it had in the beginning. It was as if piece by piece, his heart was finally beginning to catch up with what his brain had realized a long time ago - this Ian Gallagher, the one walking around town now - he wasn’t the Ian Gallagher that Mickey had fallen in love with when he had been seventeen years old, he just wasn’t.

 

Through the big moments - like the time he had visited him in prison and informed him that Svetlana had paid him to come, and the night a couple of weeks ago when he had run over to Mickey’s house, hoping to jump into bed, just because he was lonely - Mickey was finally looking at Ian for what he was.

 

And what Ian was was… well, Mickey wasn’t so sure anymore, actually. But that was the point.

 

One night, as Mickey was closing up the alibi all by himself, the only background noise was the rain falling against the windows of the building; the winter was long gone at this point, but instead of spring replacing it, somehow they seemed to have entered some kind of raining period - it was all pretty grey most days, and if it wasn’t raining, you could feel it in the air; the promise that it would be soon. Not that Mickey minded - he didn’t spend a lot of time outside anyway.

 

He placed a few of the half empty whiskey bottles away onto the shelves, wiping down the counter once more, just making sure that there was no dust from any beer nuts - only because he knew that if there was, he would have to clean it up early tomorrow morning, and he would be exhausted. Once more he looked around, seeing if he had forgotten to do anything before he could leave. He concluded that it was all good, and he headed around the bar, grabbing his jacket which was hanging over one of the barstools, putting it on.

 

Mickey’s hand pressed against the light button, causing the entire place to become completely black right before he curled his hand around the door handle, walking outside, the sound of the rain immediately becoming a lot less muffled, a few drops hitting the top of his head. He turned around, locking up quickly before doing so again; he found himself frozen that second though, slightly taken aback by the sudden appearance of the person in front of him.

 

“Fucking scared me, man” Mickey laughed, looking at Trevor. The guy seemed legitimately sorry for a second before his lips pulled upwards into a grin as well, his jacket clad shoulders shrugging a little bit.

 

“Didn’t mean to startle you, should have said something” Trevor half-apologized, to which Mickey nodded once. He hadn’t seen him around in a while - not for a few weeks, actually. It wasn’t necessarily something he had thought about either though, seeing as his own life was quite busy with his son and several jobs and shit. “I was just going to see if it was too late for a drink” He explained then, nodding to the door behind Mickey’s back, looking towards the bar for a minute and then shifting his eyes back to Mickey’s, who nodded.

 

“Yeah, just closed up” He would turn around and pour them both a drink anyway, but Svetlana had shit to do tomorrow, so he would have to take care of the kid, and figured that the most adult thing to do was to get a few hours of sleep first just to make sure that he wouldn’t accidentally set him on fire or something. Man, he had grown up in the past few months - he was an actual father and shit.

 

“Damn…” Trevor nodded. “I’ll wait until tomorrow, then. You going home?” Mickey nodded. “Mind if I walk with you for a minute?”

 

“Sure” Mickey shrugged, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He wasn’t sure why the fuck the guy would want to follow him home, but for some reason he had never really seemed to mind his Milkovich attitude in the way that the majority of people did. And oddly enough - the more time Mickey spent with Trevor the less annoying he found him - not that he had found him annoying in the beginning, really at all - which was a rare thing.

 

Either way, Mickey handed a second smoke over to him and they begun walking in comfortable silence, the alibi disappearing slowly behind them both as the grey tobacco danced in front of their faces, clearly visible in the black night air.

 

“Haven’t seen you around in a while” Mickey found himself saying - for some reason - he wasn’t all that sure why. It wasn’t as if he cared; Trevor was a cool guy, possibly even somewhat of a friend, but they weren’t close. He took another drag of his cigarette as he waited for an answer, feeling the warm smoke inside of his throat and his lungs; he wasn’t sure why he suddenly and randomly wanted to turn his head, just to look at Trevor, nor did he know why he was forcefully stopping himself from doing so.

 

“Yeah, it’s been a lot - had a lot of kids to place in the past couple of weeks” Mickey nodded once to himself, staring straight ahead at the empty street, their steps falling into sync. He remembered something about Trevor placing kids and teenagers in homes when they didn’t have anywhere else to live - he hadn’t listened very intently whenever he had told him about it - but enough. It seemed to selfless to be working with something like that - and Mickey wasn’t sure why the reminder of how kind Trevor seemed to be caused that weird tumbling, stirring feeling to appear in his stomach again, but he pushed it down. “I’m also not really into the idea of running into my ex more than I have to, you know? That would kind of suck, so I tend to stay away a little bit if I can”

 

Mickey watched the smoke cloud appear in front of his own face as the words reached his ears, and he hummed.

 

“Yeah, I heard about that” He commented on Ian and Trevor’s breakup - it wasn’t something he had thought about a lot, he had no reason to. It didn’t matter that they weren’t together anymore, Mickey and Ian would never be back together again, and Trevor - no, fuck. Abort. Mickey would not be thinking that way, no. He had to force himself away from it. Still; “Man, I’d say I’m sorry, but…” He trailed off, shrugging.

 

“…but you can’t be sad that your ex’s latest relationship didn’t work out either. Got it. I’ve been there” Intentional or not, neither of them said Ian’s name out loud, though Trevor’s voice seemed to have some kind of amusement painted into them, and it caused Mickey’s mouth to tug upwards into a small smile right before he stuck the cigarette back in between his lips, breathing in the toxic smoke once again as they slowly begun to head closer to the Milkovich house, turning a corner.

 

After that, neither of them said anything for a little bit again, and soon Mickey had finished his cigarette and he dropped it into the ground, stepping onto it as they continued to walk down the sidewalk, steps still synched for some reason; they just fell that way. With two free hands, Mickey tucked them both into the pockets of his jacket; the rain may have slowed down a great deal, but it was still threatening a little bit in the air at this point, causing that particular chill to enter his body, some goosebumps appearing on the small slivers of skin that were exposed; like his neck and wrists.

 

They turned another corner, ending up on the street where Mickey’s house was located, and the streetlights were all flickering, lighting up the rain soaked asphalt, causing it to glitter slightly in the darkness of the night. Everything was oddly silent; quiet; asleep. The only thing that could really be heard were Mickey and Trevor’s footsteps, along with some drunk idiot screaming or laughing somewhere far, far away in the distance.

 

“This is it, man” Mickey stated, his steps slowing down and stopping when they were standing outside of the house where he had grown up, the windows black. Which was odd - usually at least one of his brothers would be up playing a video game or watching porn, or making hot pockets at one am - it was rare that everyone were asleep at the same time. Then again, they could also just not be home.

 

“Oh, alright” Trevor nodded once or twice, looking up towards the house for a moment before moving his eyes back to Mickey, the two of them standing facing each other, a few feet separating them from each other. Without either of them having much control of it, the blue eyes suddenly stared into the brown ones, and vice versa.

 

And in that moment, Mickey realized the reason why he had subconsciously - or possibly somewhat consciously - avoided looking at him as much as he could in the past half hour.

 

Because the boy was fucking beautiful, and if he allowed himself to register that fact, his life would be fucked up a thousand times more than it already was.

 

With that hugeass curly head of hair, the small amount of facial hair, that that weird, kind of glimmer in his eye that could only be described as pure kindness - it wasn’t something Mickey had in his own, nor was it something he was used to seeing.

 

Yeah - fuck, he was beautiful.

 

“Mickey” Mickey raised his eyebrows, doing his best to ignore how the brown eyes almost seemed to flicker down towards his lips for a split second before Trevor got a hold of himself again, the eye contact being re established. His voice was a little bit darker now, less loud and more humming, like a whisper, but at the same time not. Mickey found himself hoping that he was alone in - whatever kind of fucked up attraction he had to this guy.

 

It had always been there, since day one - and somehow, in the silent, dark night, underneath a flickering streetlight - standing alone with him, nothing around them that would disturb - it was somewhat easy to admit. But just because Mickey found him attractive, that didn’t mean that he liked him - like that; and he was hoping Trevor didn’t either. Still, the sound of his name from his lips - the tone - it wasn’t promising. Especially not with the way he was suddenly looking at him. Yet;

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Hypothetically…” Trevor licked his lips quickly, their eyes still looking into each other’s. “If I kissed you right now, do you think you would push me away?” Mickey’s eyebrows had fallen, but at the unexpected question, they raised again, his lips parting slightly, throat seeming to dry out. He should look away from those large eyes, he knew that he should, but he didn’t. Hypothetically? If he was kissed right now, there probably wouldn’t be enough strength left in his body to do anything, but that didn’t mean it was a good idea.

 

“Hypothetically?”

 

“Hypothetically” Trevor nodded. Mickey grinned, looking over his shoulder for a moment, if only to break the intense eye contact so that he could have a moment to think; he used the thumb of his right hand to move across his bottom lip; it was a nervous habit, always had been. The fuck was he supposed to say to that? By the time their eyes connected again, Trevor’s eyes were still reflecting that deep kindness, that hope, or… whatever.

 

“No” Mickey said honestly, but before Trevor could actually do it, he opened his mouth again; “…but, that doesn’t mean it would be a good idea, man. Would probably be a really fucking stupid one”

 

That just felt like the truth - with everything. With both of them having been involved with Ian, with Mickey just finally beginning to get his life put together once again, with Trevor being busy with whatever the hell he was doing - the timing just seemed fucked up. Not to mention that three weeks was nothing - and not even that had really passed since Ian and Trevor had officially broken up, as far as Mickey knew.

 

There were a thousand and one reasons as to why Mickey and Trevor shouldn’t press their lips together right now - no matter how fucking perfect the moment was, no matter how much they both suddenly wanted that.

 

“Why’s that? ‘Cause of him?” Mickey thought that maybe Trevor took a step forwards, or half of one, but it wasn’t enough for him to be sure, and he forced himself not to do so as well. Their voices had lowered slightly at this point, and the streetlight continued to flicker right above their heads, the rain beginning to fall once again - not too much, just slightly. It was as if the fucking universe was fighting to make this the most cheesy, romantic moment ever, and it was taking everything out of Mickey to make sure he wouldn’t curse out loud because of it - it would be so easy to just give in, say ‘fuck it’ and press his lips against Trevor’s - just to try it.

 

Just to see if there was something there at all, or if there wasn’t, then they could just drop this whole fucking thing. But Mickey wouldn’t - he supposed he was just kind of terrified that that wouldn’t be the case. It was better to keep away from all of it completely.

 

“‘Cause of everything, man” Mickey did his best to crack a smile, tried to lighten the mood. “It’s just a bad fucking idea - thanks for walking me home, though” He joked then, nodding towards the house, his mouth pulling up into a teasing grin, Trevor’s face soon mimicking it, his head nodding up and down once. Just like that, the air in between them wasn’t heated anymore, it wasn’t tense, and not awkward - just simple. Maybe that was fucked up, but in a lot of ways, they just seemed to work around each other. Click.

 

“No problem” Trevor laughed, taking a step and a half backwards once again as Mickey begun moving back towards the house, more and more space slowly being put in between the two again. “Maybe I’ll see you around”

 

“Maybe, yeah”

 

  
***

 

  
For a reason that Mickey couldn’t exactly or precisely put his finger on, when he entered his bedroom all of five minutes later, and closed the door - finally left alone to his own thoughts - he felt somehow out of breath. The rain continued to pick up a little bit, falling again the glass of the windows and creating that muffled kind of noise, blending together with the slight wind in the distance. He found himself leaning against the door, just listening, replaying the previous conversation in his head.

 

Well - he wasn’t so much replaying it as much as it was just stuck on repeat and he couldn’t unjam the damn button.

 

_‘Hypothetically. If I kissed you right now, do you think you would push me away?’_   
_‘No’_   
_‘Hypothetically. If I kissed you right now, do you think you would push me away?’_   
_‘No’_   
_‘Hypothetically. If I kissed you right now, do you think you would push me away?’_   
_‘No’_

 

“Fuck” Mickey groaned out loud, placing his palms flatly onto his eyes, pressing the heels down, causing those weird shapes to appear. Once or twice, he banged the back of his head against the door behind himself, before realizing that there was a little child asleep in the next room; one that would be very grumpy tomorrow if he didn’t get his sleep. So Mickey stopped, and he dropped his arms to hang limply on either side of his body, his eyes blinking open, taking in the dark room.

 

So he liked Trevor. That was something that had finally caught up with him after that weird sort of romantic - almost kiss - moment that they had just shared. So what? It wasn’t the worst thing in the world; it wasn’t as if he had to act on it, he could very well just ignore it, and it would go away. Alright; maybe he wasn’t that naive, but he could still ignore it.

 

Mickey licked his lips once, remaining frozen, standing against the door for another short moment before he sighed loudly, pushing himself to take the few steps over towards the still unmade bed. He unzipped his jeans, pushing them down, and then he climbed into bed, laying there in the middle of it, completely relaxed, staring up into the ceiling. Though his mind couldn’t quite relax, still.

 

It just kind of sucked, that was all - if he had to meet someone else and get a crush on someone else, why couldn’t it have been someone entirely else? Someone that he met on the street, or on a fucking run, hell if he knew - it was just fucked up that it had to be not only somebody that Ian knew, but somebody that he had kissed, that he had fucked, that he had laughed with. Why did it have to be his ex boyfriend’s ex boyfriend?

 

Why.

 

  
***

 

  
Being that Mickey had to take care of Yevgeny the next day, he didn’t have to go into work until quite late in the day, something he wasn’t sure if he should be bummed about or happy about - of course he loved spending time with his kid, these days he did. No matter how he had come to be, Yevgeny was Mickey’s son, and though it had taken him a lot longer than it should have to love him, he did. None of that shit was his fault.

 

But despite how being inside on the couch in an empty house with said son next to him, eating hot pockets and watching cartoons should and would have been just about Mickey’s description of a perfect saturday - it was proving to be less so today. Mostly because not working, not moving around, not walking around from place to place during a day gave Mickey a lot more time to think - something he hated. He always had hated having time to think. More so when he had shit he should think about - shit he didn’t want to think about.

 

Mickey tried to listen to the few things that Yevgeny said to him - and he did - but then the second he was quiet again, when his simple little child brain was absorbed by the shitty ass cartoons on the television screen, Mickey’s was loud again. He tried, of course - to focus on whatever problem the drawn characters were attempting to solve this time, to focus on their annoying ass, squeaky voices, and to focus on how good the cheese and fat drenched pizza tasted around lunch time - and for an hour here or an hour there, Mickey actually managed to only be in the moment, in this lazy day.

 

But then came the moment when he ended up remembering the moment that had appeared last night, the way that Trevor had looked under that streetlight, and the more and the more that Mickey thought about it - the more that his brain was pulled back to that place, no matter how much he attempted to fight back - the more he realized that maybe he had screwed up. If he had just pushed that voice back - the one that told him that it was all too messy, and too complicated, and wrong - where would he be now? If he had just let Trevor kiss him?

 

Would he be all fucking giddy and girly and shit - waiting for a text while telling himself that he was completely cool? Or maybe they would have both realized that whatever they felt wasn’t romantic after all, and they would have shrugged and made plans to hang out as friends later today. It could have gone either way, but either way would have been better than whatever this was - Mickey being unable to spend a lazy day together with his son and his son alone, because the guy took up too much of his brain, it was fucked up.

 

Anyway - despite the seemingly constant mess inside of Mickey’s brain for the better part of his lazy saturday, he was lucky enough to get tugged into some kind of movie with talking animals a few hours after lunch; it was the kind of movie he would never in a million years watch by himself, but when he was forced to watch something kid friendly anyway, it wasn’t half bad. It was about a zebra wanting to be a race horse, and there was a goat, and a goose - and Hayden Panettiere, who was probably the only woman on earth that Mickey would ever even find the slightest bit physically attractive, so it wasn’t half bad.

 

By the time the darkness was slowly but surely beginning to settle outside of the window, Mickey was half lying down on the couch, hand lazily wrapped around a green glass bottle, the bottom of it resting against his sweatpant clad knee, Yevgeny’s soft, sleepy sighs reaching his ears at a steady, easy pace.

 

It wasn’t all that long after that that Svetlana came home to the house again, and they switched, her watching Yevgeny so that Mickey could get dressed and head over to the alibi to work an hour or two before he could close up. Honestly, it was the last thing he wanted to do - he wanted to stay on the couch and do fuck all - but he had promised Kev, and if Kevin fired his ass, then he would have nothing, so he couldn’t do shit about it other than to walk over there.

 

  
***

 

  
The clock was most likely beginning to tick towards midnight that same night, when Mickey was standing behind the bar, wiping down the counter, his mind in all kinds of places; important ones and not. He had just thrown out the last few drunk slobs a few minutes earlier, excited to close this place up and head back to the house once again - he had to admit that as much as working nights should be ideal, to him it wasn’t. He would rather work a few hours in the morning and have the rest of the day to himself than spend the entire morning in front of the television, counting the hours until he would be forced to get up.

 

Alas, he couldn’t do shit about it, so here he was, cleaning everything up. Piss and spilled beer and beer nuts - there was probably some vomit, too, but he wasn’t touching that shit. Fuck.

 

A couple of the beer pints rang throughout the empty place when Mickey accidentally tapped them against each other, lifting all three up at ones, along with a few bottles. He managed to grab all of it, avoiding having to head towards the back several times. He knew that he should clean the pints right now, preventing whoever had the first shift tomorrow morning from having to do it, but it wasn’t him, so who gave a shit. Once in a while he was nice enough, but not when he was here by himself at midnight, just wanting to go home. So instead of cleaning them free of beer, he just placed them onto a dish rack and then turned back around, heading out into the main part of the bar once again, the dishrag thrown over his right shoulder.

 

Almost like perfect timing or some shit, he heard the door opening, and he looked up. Fuck. There he was - curly hair a mess, smile on his face, sleeves pushed up to his elbows in a way that made it difficult not to look at his arms - all of it. Why couldn’t he have walked in here tomorrow? Having twenty four hours to process the realization of last night would have been helpful - but then again, Mickey supposed that he had had around twenty five at this point.

 

“Hey, man. The fuck are you doing here?” Mickey asked, feeling oddly casual. Then again - that’s how they had left it, too. It hadn’t been awkward, it was just Mickey’s ever so spinning brain that had most likely made this whole possible crush thing into something way bigger than it technically needed to be.

 

“Told you I’d be by - had some things to take care of earlier, though so I guess I’m late again. You have a beer for me anyway?” Mickey found himself shrugging once, nodding as he turned around, grabbing a clean pint down and filling it up to the rim with the yellow liquid, before placing it in front of one of the barstools. Trevor grinned, walking up and sitting down, wrapping his hand around the glass while Mickey continued to wipe wipe down the rest of the counter.

 

“What exactly do you do anyway, man?” Mickey asked then, eyes still focused on the black surface - he did know what Trevor did. Kind of. But he had never asked in detail, and if he had ever heard him talk deeper about it - he hadn’t been listening.

 

“It’s a lot of meetings, a lot of yelling” Trevor said, amusement painting his tone. “A lot of fighting for these kids, you know? Making sure they’re not only under a roof, but under one that’s safe. It’s important. For me personally, having dealt with things my entire life, but also for the entire lgbt community. I feel some kind of connection to them all, I guess…” He trailed off for a bit, swallowing down some of the beer before continuing. “I don’t want anybody to be at risk or unsafe. I guess I just really don’t want anybody to feel bad just because they don’t fit into the frame of what’s normal or whatever”

 

At some point as Trevor had been talking, Mickey had without realizing it put the rag down and placed his hands flatly onto the bar counter, just looking at him. Listening. It was actually really fucking cool - the way that he somehow had within him the ability to care for other people - people he didn't even know, really.

 

He didn’t even realize that he had stopped talking, or that he was staring until Trevor’s mouth pulled up into a slight smile, eyes somehow softening slightly further while he seemed to almost ease himself a little bit closer, pulling himself up onto the bar counter, but not to the point where it was noticeable at all, really - just closer.

 

“Why, is that stupid?” Mickey shook his head, unable to look away from his eyes for some reason.

 

“No, it’s cool” He found himself assuring Trevor, his voice sounding a little bit deeper than it normally would. It was as if the more the guy talked, the more Mickey found out about him - the more he wanted to know, it was a circle. A carousel, or a spinning wheel - or all of the above. Once or twice, Mickey had found himself wondering how the fuck somebody who was born a female could seem like such a man. Not just looks wise, or personality wise, but the way that Mickey felt around him. That energy, and the way that he only wanted more, he couldn't explain it - but it was such an overpowering, somehow sexy and toxic heavy male energy. Yet Trevor was one of the kindest people Mickey had ever met - so far, at least.

 

“Mickey” Mickey licked his lips at the sound, eyes flickering down towards Trevor’s, the both of them somehow seeming to lean further and further over the counter despite neither of them making any kind of conscious decision to do so.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If I kissed you right now, do you think you would push me away?” How the fuck he managed to remember the exact words that he had uttered last night, Mickey didn’t know, but this time they were even more of a whisper, and it caused him to swallow nervously - a feeling that he hadn’t felt in so fucking long. It felt good to have it back in his stomach.

 

“Hypothetically?”

 

“No”

 

“No” It was unclear who finally made it happen - who pushed themselves over the counter just enough; maybe it was Trevor, maybe it was Mickey. Maybe it was both of them at the same exact time, and that fact was what caused the moment to become all that more powerful, but either way - somehow - it happened.

 

Their mouths pressed against each other’s, Trevor closing his lips around Mickey’s bottom one, both pairs of eyes closing. The slight amount of facial hair on the bottom part of Trevor’s face scratched Mickey’s skin lightly, and somehow that feeling caused the slight stirring in his gut to pick up its pace a little bit more, just when it broke for a split second, and they both parted their lips, going in for more, the tips of their tongues touching now.

 

It still was kind of timid - not chaste - but like an ‘let’s try this, is this really what we want?’ kind of kiss. And yes - it fucking was. Because the longer that their mouths rested against each others, and the longer that their noses pressed against each other’s cheeks, the more their hearts seemed to speed up, and the less hesitant it all became.

 

They pulled apart one more, and went in for a deeper kiss. Mickey brought his hand up, placing it onto the back of Trevor’s neck, his fingers easily slipping into the brown curls as the same time as their lips parted further, tongues sliding over each other; Trevor’s finger tips grasping lightly at the sleeve of Mickey’s shirt.

 

A few seconds later, they broke apart, eyes blinking open; Mickey’s heart was beating so hard against his ribcage that he was afraid Trevor would be able to hear it. They looked into each other’s eyes, both probably still kind of in shock about what had just happened - not the kiss in and of itself, but more so how right said kiss had felt. How much they wanted to do it again.

 

Though Mickey couldn’t help but feel as if the huge fucking bar counter was in the way, so before he could think it over, he backed up and rounded it quickly, walking out into the bigger part of the bar. Trevor stood up from his chair, just in time for Mickey to reach him, just in time for him to place his hands on either side of his face and crash their lips together again.

 

This time - it wasn’t timid, and it wasn’t careful. It was open mouthed, wet and needy. Their tongues tangled together, fighting for dominance, their clothed chests resting together, as well as their foreheads, heavy breathing audible.

 

They pulled apart, and then they went in for more, desperately sucking at each other’s lips, biting at them, saliva being spread out from their noses to their chins.

 

Trevor placed both of his hands onto Mickey’s waist, forcefully pushing him backwards against the bar counter so that he could cage him in, attempting to deepen the makeout session even further. Mickey groaned into the kiss, approving of the manhandling as his fingers tugged at the soft strands of curly hair, nose buried in Trevor’s cheek; they couldn’t get close enough. It was too good - felt too good.

 

They stayed there for a lot longer than they had to - making out, groaping - talking, too. And it felt a hell of a lot like the beginning of falling in love.


	4. When You Already Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Look, man - it’s not… it’s not like I got a problem with it or some shit, I just - “ He cut himself off, and Trevor stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “It’s just fucking weird, because I never fucking top unless I have to. Like when I was locked up and shit, I always bottom, and you don’t have a dick, so - “
> 
> “I have several actually, they’re made of silicone” Trevor stopped him from ranting any longer, and he reached forwards, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Mickey’s jeans; for a slight and a mere second, Mickey hesitated, and then he followed, climbing into his lap, straddling his thighs, brown eyes looking up into blue through the yellow lit livingroom. Mickey could feel Trevor’s hands resting on either side of his waist, and he kind of hated how fucking good it felt - how right, and how… safe, fuck - he hadn’t felt a touch like that in years. “We can talk about this, you know - when Ian and I first - “
> 
> “That is not fucking helping” Mickey’s voice was nearly a growl, and Trevor had to bite the inside of his bottom lip to keep from grinning at the tone of jealousy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- unedited because the writer happens to be a lazy ass bitch -

Mickey forcefully sucked Trevor’s bottom lip into his mouth, his hands grasping at whatever kind of fabric of his clothes that he could possibly get a hold of; their noses were smashed into each other’s cheeks, their foreheads resting together, both pairs of eyes screwed shut tightly. His right arm was laced all the way around his waist, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt on the other side. Not much sound was audible at all, possibly the low sound of whatever shitty ass saturday morning cartoon that Mickey had been watching when the other man had come over. They had tried to have some beer and sit next to each other casually for a bit, but it hadn’t taken much more than ten minutes or so before they had been on each other, lips nibbling and hands groaping.

 

It felt a fuck of a lot like being teenagers again, honestly - not that either of them had been out of their teenage years for very long at all. It was fucked up, in a way - maybe. And it was strange. That Trevor had been perfectly fine with Ian, and Mickey had been completely fine single - although, maybe he had been pining after Ian for a second after he came back, just a second, whether he would admit it or not. And somehow now - neither of them cared about said redhead. They just cared about each other, at least for the moment being.

 

Mickey was crazy about Trevor, and that was surprising, too - if he had ever planned on getting involved with anybody again - which was something that he hadn’t given much thought to at all, actually - then he supposed that he would have just seen someone like himself. Someone crude, and someone who grew up around here, and someone who had the attitude to prove it - Trevor was none of that. At least not as far as Mickey knew, they still hadn’t known each other for very long at all. But as far as he knew, Trevor was just… kind, and likeable, and sweet - all of the things Mickey really wasn’t. At least not to a lot of people.

 

Hell if he knew, but maybe that was what caused him to tug him even closer, and shove his tongue even further into his mouth. A grunt sounded somewhere in the back of Trevor’s throat at the suddenly deepened kiss, but it didn’t take long before he responded, clutching the neckline of Mickey’s t shirt. Their breathing became heavier, drawing out the slight murmur of the television as the tattooed fingers curled, grabbing onto the messy, curly hair, wanting to be even closer. Maybe if he somehow got close enough, that slight buzzing in the pit of his stomach would stop; or become stronger. He wasn’t sure which one he would prefer more.

 

“We should stop” Trevor lifted his head, and Mickey immediately went over to press his lips to his jaw instead, shaking his head once. He could feel the other man’s hand on his waist, tightening; he had a feeling that his eyes were also closed as he enjoyed his touch.

 

“Fuck you” Mickey hummed, and without much warning, they were flipped over on the couch, Trevor’s back pressed against the cushions as Mickey hovered above him, trying to keep the threatening smile off of his face as their eyes opened, connecting for a short moment. “Kiss me” Their lips crashed together again, arms wrapping around each other; Mickey had to reach up to comb Trevor’s hair backwards with his fingers, those fucking curls got everywhere.

 

“Mick - oh, fuck” The two immediately parted at the sudden entrance, Mickey on his feet within seconds, doing his best to try to wipe away Trevor’s saliva from his lips, but it wasn’t doing much good to hide anything, especially not with how fucking swollen they were after a two hour makeout session.

 

Lip stood frozen by the front door, not even having closed it completely yet. Something about the way in which his eyes were wide and the lines in his forehead visible, told Mickey that Ian hadn’t told his brother about any of the shit that had gone down in between the two of them - and Trevor. Then again, why the fuck would he have, it was none of his business whatsoever. And come to think of it -

 

“The fuck, man? You got no fucking business walking in here” For a minute, Lip didn’t answer, seemingly still in shock from walking in on his brother’s ex boyfriends practically dry humping each other. His eyes traveled from Mickey to Trevor, who was semi-awkwardly straightening up again, placing his legs over the side of the couch to sit normally, fixing his clothes - as if that would be able to hide anything.

 

“Sorry, I um - I didn’t know… you two were um… were um…”

 

“Together” Trevor said, the word sounding surprisingly smooth and easy - sure. Mickey still had his back turned to him, but he could feel the stirring in the pit of his stomach pick up, just a little bit.

 

“The fuck are you doing here?” Mickey asked Lip, when he still seemingly hadn’t managed to shake himself loose of the shock ten or fifteen seconds later. Finally he looked at Mickey, nodding once, his feet moving a step or two further inside of the apartment.

 

“Right - Ian stole one of my sweatshirts a long time ago and we can’t find it. Thought it might be here”

 

“Maybe” Mickey shrugged. “I don’t fucking know, there’s a fucking pile of his clothes in a corner, grab all of it” Lip nodded once, heading for the brunet’s bedroom. Said brunet sighed as he disappeared, half dreading turning back around. Honestly - going through his clothes to get rid of the shit that was Ian’s had been a difficult thing to do, not only because it was the final step, but also because he had ended up realizing that he wasn’t sure what shirt was his own, or what boxers were Ian’s - that’s how close they had been. That’s how stable and how normal - if that was even a term - their relationship had been. They had been happy together, and content, and now it was all over. Mickey didn’t want Ian anymore, not now - but he had to admit that once in a while, he did miss the Ian that he had been when they had been teenagers. The one that he had fallen in love with from the start.

 

And Lip showing up and asking about that fucking sweatshirt had just sent Mickey spiraling down an alice in wonderland styled hole of memories and time and moments - and it was the worst fucking thing for him, especially when he had his new boyfriend sitting literally not even two feet away from him. Alas, he turned back around eventually, reaching for one of the bottles of beer before sitting down next to Trevor.

 

“Sorry about that shit” He wasn’t sure why he was apologizing - it wasn’t his fucking fault that his ex boyfriend’s brother had for some reason decided to march in here without any kind of warning - but still. Trevor just shrugged, though, teasingly bumping his shoulder to Mickey’s, their clothes thighs touching in the process.

 

“It’s all good” He assured him, and at the tone in his voice, Mickey found himself raising his eyebrows, turning his head to look at him, ignoring the mouth of the bottle that was hovering a mere inch from his lips, focusing on Trevor’s instead. As cheesy as the thought was - his lips were fucking beautiful.

 

“Yeah?” Mickey asked, not sure if he wanted to look at his boyfriend’s eyes or mouth, so his focus flickered in between. Trevor nodded once, and then pressed himself closer, attaching his lips to the other man’s, both of their stomachs picking up that kind of stirring once again - the one that they were finally beginning to give into, as much as they had both tried to fight it when they had first met. They parted, and then went in for more, the tips of their tongues touching - but before they could go any further, Mickey pulled away, shaking his head once. “I’m gonna see what the fuck is taking him so long”

 

There was the slight tap of the bottle touching the old coffee table as Mickey put it down, and then he stood up, heading back towards his bedroom and entering. Lip was still standing in the corner where he had thrown all of the shit that was Ian’s - or he thought might be Ian’s - honestly, he doubted that even he would know, were he to ask. It was better to be safe than sorry, and he just wanted to get rid of it, get rid of anything that reminded him of Ian - well, things like clothes, at least.

 

“Just grab all of it, man. And get outta here” Mickey just stated, a slightly tired, or a somewhat annoyed tone in his voice - it was quite difficult to figure out which.

 

“Alright, I was just um…” Lip trailed off, and didn’t finish as he quickly - but not quickly enough in Mickey’s opinion - grabbed whatever fabric he could get a hold of, lifting all of the clothing pieces into his arms. Mickey crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe as he waited for him to be done and get going so that he could once again be alone with his boyfriend - man, as many times as he said that, it sounded weird as fuck. He had barely been comfortable calling Ian that when they were in their best place - not because he was insecure, but because it was something he never thought he would have. Now he had a second one, fuck - man, if his life somehow trailed even further away from how he had believed that things would work out when he had been younger, he might as well become a billionaire. Or some shit.

 

Lip turned around again, with all of Ian’s clothes in his hands, and Mickey stayed in his place, waiting for him to exit. But instead he walked up to him, almost as if he was being careful, and then his eyes flickered over his shoulder, towards the couch where Trevor was still sitting. The tapping of him using the keyboard on his phone was audible, and Mickey frowned, wondering what the hell this douche was about to say. If he was being honest - he had never liked Lip all too much. Carl was a lot more badass, was he to pick one of the Gallagher brothers, other than the one he dated.

 

“Do you - did you hear that he was born a chick?” Mickey fought the urge not to punch his ugly ass face in right there - what the fuck kind of comment? Yeah, Mickey knew - and yeah, it was weird, sometimes. Not that he had ever brought anything like that up to Trevor, because honestly, he was low-key terrified that he would become angry, were he to show any kind of concern about him being trans or whatever. In theory - Mickey would have had a problem with it, he had never grown up with that kind of shit, not really. Had somebody asked him a year ago, maybe he would have frowned, and shook his head - said something along the lines of ‘I don’t understand why people do that shit, man’ But in real life, Trevor was just Trevor. And Trevor was quite fucking obviously - a man.

 

Mickey was still getting used to the thought - even if he wouldn’t admit that. But that shit was his business alone, not Lip’s - in any kind of universe what so ever. What kind of bullshit.

 

“I know, Philip” It was possible that there was even more annoyance clouding the words that he had intended for there to be - but what the fuck. Where did he get off asking him about that shit anyway? It was stupid as fuck, and unnecessary.

 

“Alright, don’t bite my head off. I just wanted to make sure. You never struck me as someone who…” Mickey raised his eyebrows, and maybe that was what made the stupidity finally begin to stop falling from his lips - could he just leave already?

 

“Someone who?” Maybe Mickey should help him out of this mess instead of forcing him to thread himself through it, but eh - he might as well find out what he had been planning on saying. Mickey didn’t come across as someone who what? Someone who would be alright with people being different? Fuck knows Mickey judged a lot of people - but mainly rich cunts up on the north side. And Lip.

 

“Someone who would be into that” Someone who would be into -that-. That’s really fucking nice - why the fuck couldn’t Mickey just like Trevor as a person without specifically being into something? He wasn’t into people who were trans, not specifically, he just happened to like this one - why couldn’t Lip just leave him alone and get it? Or not get it, and leave him alone anyway, just because it was the easy thing to do? Either way - honestly. He just wanted him out of his house.

 

And yeah, maybe Mickey was still trying to come to terms with certain things, maybe he still wasn’t sure about the idea of fucking Trevor, or having Trevor fuck him, however the fuck that would work out for the best. They still hadn’t done that shit, they had only been together for a couple of weeks - the first night, they had gone back to Mickey’s place, and they had been on their way - kissing, biting, a couple of items of clothes being thrown onto the floor, but Mickey had stopped it - he had given him some bullshit excuse about having to be up early in the morning. As if. He had been able to tell that Trevor hadn’t believed him, of course, but it was all good now. Mickey wasn’t disgusted by the thought of what he may or may not have in his pants - he liked him, and he wouldn’t stop liking him because of some shit like that. But he had never done this before, so he wasn’t sure. How it worked, what to touch, how to be - any of that.

 

But taking all of that into account, that didn’t mean that he would be uncomfortable forever. And fuck Lip for unintentionally making him spiral like this - asshole.

 

“Are you done? You gonna get the fuck out of my house?” Mickey asked, instead of bothering to say anything else to his dumbass statement. Lip seemed to hesitate for a second, as if he wanted to spew some more bullshit, or ‘warn’ Mickey about something else, but he seemed to realize that it was best to keep his mouth shut now, and he nodded once, passing him to walk back out into the livingroom, the sound of the front door slamming shut soon evident enough. Mickey almost felt himself breathing out - jesus fucking christ, how stupid could a person be?

 

  
***

 

  
“Are you avoiding us having sex because I’m trans?” Mickey frowned, the unexpected question suddenly tugging him out of the world of shitty ass horror movies where you couldn’t even figure out what the fucking storyline was. And of course - unexpected for the moment, or not - it was a question that he had been dreading, possibly one that he had known was going to come sooner or later. He had just hoped that it would turn out to be later. Tonight had been fucking great - they had the movie, and beer, and all of Trevor’s roommates were out, so they had the entire place to themselves as well - and in hindsight, Mickey supposed he should have realized that the issue would come up tonight - hadn’t Trevor been trans, he probably would be on the floor, deep throating his cock by now. It wasn’t that Mickey had a problem with it - not really, not in the sense that he thought the whole thing was weird or disgusting or anything - it was just a new thing. And he wasn’t terribly sure how to handle it.

 

“Take your silence as a yes?” Mickey sighed, taking another deep swallow of the beer before turning away from the movie to shift his attention towards Trevor, who had a seemingly completely and utterly unreadable expression on his face.

 

“Look, man - it’s not… it’s not like I got a problem with it or some shit, I just - “ He cut himself off, and Trevor stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “It’s just fucking weird, because I never fucking top unless I have to. Like when I was locked up and shit, I always bottom, and you don’t have a dick, so - “

 

“I have several actually, they’re made of silicone” Trevor stopped him from ranting any longer, and he reached forwards, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Mickey’s jeans; for a slight and a mere second, Mickey hesitated, and then he followed, climbing into his lap, straddling his thighs, brown eyes looking up into blue through the yellow lit livingroom. Mickey could feel Trevor’s hands resting on either side of his waist, and he kind of hated how fucking good it felt - how right, and how… safe, fuck - he hadn’t felt a touch like that in years. “We can talk about this, you know - when Ian and I first - “

 

“That is not fucking helping” Mickey’s voice was nearly a growl, and Trevor had to bite the inside of his bottom lip to keep from grinning at the tone of jealousy. Mickey couldn’t help it - he fucking hated thinking about the two of them together. Whether he was jealous that Ian had had Trevor, or that Trevor had had Ian, it didn’t matter - maybe it was a little bit of jealousy on both ends, but either way, it all fucking sucked.

 

“Sorry” Trevor said, one of his hands leaving Mickey’s waist to cup his ass, pushing him even a little bit closer to his chest. “The point is I know how it works, you don’t have to be afraid”

 

“Not fucking afraid” Mickey was quick to mumble back, possibly mostly out of instinct. Maybe he was afraid, though - or uncomfortable, or - some other word, he just couldn’t find it. And the worst part was - they had waited almost three weeks to have sex, that was a long ass time, at least to Mickey - so now it was like a thing. Fuck, why couldn’t they have fucked on that first night? It would have made everything so much easier, honestly.

 

“Good” Trevor hummed - whether he believed Mickey’s previous, weak statement was still debatable, but he chose to ignore it, tugging his boyfriend even closer. “Because you look so fucking good, all I want to do is fuck you” He punctuated the sentence by grabbing Mickey’s ass even more forcefully, tilting his head up more, silently asking for a kiss, but waiting for him to give the signal. Their eyes stayed connected through the few seconds it took for Mickey to register and decide. “You alright with that?” After those words, Trevor licked his lips, and without thinking, Mickey dipped his head, his own tongue following his into his mouth, and with that, it almost seemed as if all of the talking was over for the night being.

 

Trevor loosened his grip on his ass, and then began kneading the flesh through his jeans again, Mickey’s hands resting at the back of his neck, fingers wrapping up into the wild, brown curls, tugging at them slightly as the kiss deepened, their tongues sliding against each other. Any time when they had made out in the past - which was a lot, almost several hours a day, it felt way too good together - in a way, Mickey had always been holding back, had never wanted it to go to far, because he hadn’t been sure of what to do, if that would happen - but now he wasn’t.

 

He wasn’t holding shit back, he kissed him with everything that he had, and he felt the stirring in his stomach become even a little bit more powerful as their tongues tangled, and he pushed his ass back into the other man’s hands, asking for more. Tonight, they both knew that they didn’t need to hold anything back - either of them - because they wanted this, both of them did - they wanted each other. So fucking badly.

 

Mickey’s teeth scraped against Trevor’s bottom lip as he let his hands let go of his hair, sliding down his clothed chest in favor of slipping underneath the thin cotton t shirt, feeling his warm skin against his palms. The kiss broke, just long enough for Trevor to stick his arms up in the air, letting his boyfriend peel the piece of clothing off of him; Mickey took the opportunity to throw his own out of the way as well. Ignoring his ass for now, Trevor then went straight for the back of Mickey’s neck, pulling him back into a heated kiss, thirsting for more; their tongues tangled up again, teeth getting in the way every once in a while - it wasn’t perfect, hell, nothing was - but it was so fucking good. And so… warm. Right, even - maybe.

 

Mickey was the one to break the kiss, pulling away and leaving the other man chasing after his lips for another second before he opened his eyes, frowning, wondering what the sudden stop was for. When he opened his eyes, Mickey placed his hand onto his chest, looking down at it. His eyes traced the scars, his fingers soon following; he had seen him shirtless before, but only briefly. The thick, pink lips were parted, and soon his attention left the scars, his hand curling around the thin leather strap around his neck instead. He remembered him saying something about the necklace having to do with him being trans - either way, he liked the look of it. It made him even fucking hotter, as if that had been possible.

 

Mickey was also the one to stand up, hand still loosely holding onto the leather, indicating for his boyfriend to follow, wanting them to take this somewhere else. Their eyes connected, and Trevor grinned - that large fucking dumb ass grin that Mickey had only seen a handful of times - but it was so fucking beautiful. And it was cheesy as fuck, and this wasn’t something that he would ever use to describe anything out loud - but it was as if his eyes were fucking glittering or some shit.

 

Trevor pushed himself to stand up, wrapping one of his arms around Mickey’s waist, the heavy makeout session soon resuming as they began moving, stumbling towards his bedroom, neither of them really bothering to look where they were going. They were quite busy, kissing, groaping and pressing themselves close to each other; that kind of buzz that they had felt to begin with, that ‘I like you’ buzz or that ‘It feels to fucking good to kiss you’ kind of buzz - was now accompanied by another kind, one that they were both just as familiar with, but it was ten times stronger together. They wanted each other; so fucking badly.

 

It felt easy and difficult to focus on details, all at the same time; Mickey wanted to focus on the way that Trevor’s tongue swept across his own, or the way that his fingertips felt against his bare waist, but somehow it all just floated in the air and into a haze, all molding together into a single feeling, one he couldn’t describe, really - but it was powerful as all fucking hell. And when the kiss deepened, it felt so, so good.

 

They both kept their eyes shut, sucking each other’s lips deep into their mouths, teeth scratching as they stumbled into Trevor’s dark bedroom, Mickey tugging at the hair at the back of his neck, pressing himself closer to his chest, somehow wanting even more, as if he couldn’t possibly get enough; it had been way too long since he had been fucked by anybody, and for many reasons, yeah - fuck, he was nervous - but as much as he was unsure of this, he also hadn’t been more sure in his entire life, because this thing with Trevor just felt way too fucking right.

 

Trevor was the one to push him backwards, cold covers suddenly pressed against Mickey’s bare back; a mere second later, the weight of his boyfriend was placed onto his waist, the warmth of his tongue once again inside of his mouth, his own hand back onto his neck, tugging at the hair; he had way too much hair. But fuck, it was convenient.

 

For a while, they just laid there, holding onto each other, kissing and groaping and leaving hickey’s all over their necks and collarbones. Both pairs of jeans were thrown onto the floor somewhere amongst the midst of it all, and Mickey could feel his lips begin to sting again - just a tiny bit, in that way that it only did through and after a really fucking good and heavy makeout session.

 

Mickey felt so hazey - as if he had taken some kind of a drug, but he had never been more sober at the same time. It was a fucking cheesy ass thing to think, but it was good - it was a good haze, because somehow he knew that he wasn’t the only one in it.

 

It didn’t take all that long before his boxers had joined his jeans somewhere in the corner of the room, and Trevor was slowly but surely moving one of his fingers in and out of him, preparing him to take whatever the fuck they would end up using. They continued making out, Mickey’s head a good few inches off of the pillow, lips nibbling Trevor’s, just barely able to keep his moans in; usually a finger didn’t feel this good, but he hadn’t been with anybody in so fucking long - certainly not anybody he liked, or had any kind of feelings for whatsoever. He had missed this.

 

“This feel good?”

 

“So fucking good” Mickey mumbled. “More” He managed to add before tightening his hold on the brown hair, deepening the kiss even further, his teeth scratching across his boyfriend’s bottom lip. Trevor hummed into it, and soon Mickey felt a second finger entering him, slowly beginning to scissor, stretching him open and pressing against his walls. “Fuck” He breathed, voice thick before going back in for an even deeper kiss.

 

Mickey wasn’t sure how long it lasted, how long he just laid there, kissing Trevor, his back curling just slightly off of the covers while he just fingered him. It wasn’t for too long, though, because eventually he wanted something more, and he had to break the kiss.

 

“How do we do this shit?” Trevor chuckled, pressing one more kiss to his parted lips, easing his fingers out of him and wiping them onto the covers. Mickey turned his head to look as the other man reached over towards the nightstand, looking onto one of the bigger drawers, seeming to search it with his eyes for a minute, then he lifted out the silicone cock. Mickey wasn’t sure why he had expected a large fucking harness or some shit, but that’s now what he saw in any case.

 

“This one okay?” Trevor stayed straddling Mickey’s hips as he showed it to him - it was just a dildo, that’s what it looked like. Except for the thing at the base of it - it looked like an egg or some shit. Trevor must have sensed Mickey’s slight confusion, because he looked down at him, grinning. “Look - this part goes inside of me, so that I can fuck you. And it looks and feels like it’s just me” That was actually… a fucking smart thing.

 

“Yeah, man. Good, just get on me” Mickey said, a slight hint of amusement in his voice. Trevor chuckled, dipping his head down to press one more deep kiss to his lips; he was about to pull away again, but Mickey grabbed his hair, deepening it once more, unable to get enough. They grinned against each other’s lips.

 

“It works best if you turn around” Trevor hummed then, and Mickey obeyed; this was how he was used to doing it anyway. He heard his boyfriend mess around behind him, preparing; his heart seemed to have sped up a little bit in the past few minutes; it was as if he could feel it threatening to touch his ribcage on each beat, but just barely. It felt so fucking good to have feelings strong enough for somebody that they caused that kind of effect - Mickey had almost forgotten.

 

He heard a slight moan come from the other man’s lips, most likely from him easing the toy inside of himself; then he grabbed the lube where it laid on the covers next to them both, and Mickey head the slick sound of him using it on the dick. He licked his lips, not sure if he wanted to keep his eyes open or close them as he felt his boyfriend’s hands on his hips, holding him in place. The pad of his thumb seemed to rub smooth and sure circles on his skin, and Mickey’s eyes gave up, falling shut.

 

“You ready?” Trevor asked, the top of the dick resting against Mickey’s hole; it didn’t feel as warm as the real thing, but knowing that it was attached to Trevor still made it feel so fucking good.

 

“Please” Mickey managed to sigh, and the grip on his hips tightened a little bit more, the cock fucking finally entering his ass; he could feel his head dip pretty much immediately, his teeth grasping at his bottom lip, fingers curling into the covers underneath them both as he could feel him bottoming out, Trevor’s pelvis almost touching his ass, making them feel even more connected.

 

Slowly, Trevor pulled back out, and then thrusted back inside of him. ‘Fuck’. Mickey had no possible way of knowing if he had managed to keep the word a thought, or if it had audibly slipped past his lips, but it didn’t matter. His hands curled into fists, tugging up even more of the covers as he felt the cock move in and out of him, the speed soon picking up a little bit, Trevor’s grip tightening a little bit, fingertips digging into his flesh in a way that made his throat go dry.

 

“You look so good, Mickey. Fuck” Trevor rasped, staring down over his boyfriend’s bare back as pleasure began to take over his own body, the ridges at the base of the toy rubbing against his junk on every thrust of his hips.

 

“Harder” Mickey breathed. “Please” The room was just about completely silent, save from their heavy breathing and the murmur of the television in the other room; Mickey’s teeth dug further into his bottom lip, and he could feel Trevor angling the cock a little bit differently, getting that much closer to the spot where he really wanted him.

 

“Fuck, right there” Mickey said thickly as he felt the tip of it brush over his prostate; Trevor immediately got it, picking up the pace a little bit more, making sure to hit that spot as much as he possibly could, the bottom soon struggling to keep his arms perfectly straight; it all felt way too good. His throat was becoming more and more dry, and he was quite sure that the groans coming out of his throat were just about completely uncontrollable.

 

One of Trevor’s hands left his hip in favor of him sliding his palm up and down Mickey’s back, feeling the soft, hot skin under his touch while he continued fucking him, both of them feeling themselves grow closer with each movement.

 

“That feels so fucking good” Mickey’s voice cracked slightly, and Trevor’s hand curled around the back of his neck, pushing his head down before his fingers wrapped up in the black hair, tugging him up instead, so that both of them were standing on their knees, the top continuing to fuck his boyfriend. Mickey licked his lips, reaching around Trevor’s back to keep himself steady, kneading his ass in the process.

 

“You are so fucking hot” Trevor rasped, barely having time to finish the words before their lips crashed together, both of them beginning to grow more and more desperate as they felt their highs grow closer.

 

“Almost fucking there, man” Mickey grunted, letting go of one of Trevor’s asscheeks in favor of wrapping a hand around himself, some of his own precome coating his shaft as he grew closer and closer. And then, with Trevor’s lips pressed to his neck, and without much more warning, he came. Through a loud moan that sounded an awful lot like his boyfriend’s name; his load covered his own hand, and a good amount of the covers beneath them. The pleasure took over his body for what felt like a good amount of time - he had no way of knowing how long, he was too gone.

 

Then he collapsed, his stomach pressed against the covers, body too tired to do anything else. Trevor kept his eyes on the hot sight in front of him as he wrapped a hand around the silicone cock, jerking it off, rubbing his junk against the ridges of it until finally, his throat dried out, and he came as well, collapsing on top of the other man, lazily threading his fingers throughout his hair.

 

“Man, that was good” Mickey grinned, eyes still closed for another few seconds before he flipped over onto his back, looking up at Trevor.

 

“Wasn’t scary?” He teased, at which Mickey reached up, punching his chest loosely. “Fuck you, man” The other man chuckled, laying down onto his back, Mickey curling up next to him without thinking much of it at all; his arms just felt way too good wrapped around him. It almost felt like home. After another short second, with his nose pressed into Trevor’s neck, he added another few words; “Everything feels good with you”

 

For a split second, Trevor seemed to still, but then he hummed, tightening his hold on his boyfriend, as if he wanted to somehow be even closer, even if it wasn’t possible. His lips rested against his hair as he nodded.

 

“I know, babe” Mickey parted his lips to object to the petname, but for some reason, he found himself changing his mind. “You know that dick comes with a bullet, right?” Mickey frowned, lifting his chin to look up at Trevor.

 

“That thing vibrates?”

 

“Mhm” Trevor grinned like the little shit he was. “Round two?”


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well I like the thought of living with you” Mickey bit the inside of his cheek when their faces got closer, and Trevor dodged his lips, instead pressing a kiss to his jawline. These softer touches were also something he had had to get used to. But he found that he liked them - a lot. “Waking up with you”

”You sure about this, man?” Maybe it was stupid of Mickey to ask, stupid of him to give his boyfriend a chance to change his mind - because he wanted this. Really, he did.

 

Trevor crossed his arms and turned towards the slightly older man, raising his eyebrows a little bit as their eyes connected. Mickey couldn’t quite help but let his eyes wander over his body then, just for a second - the summer was certainly not bad for his looks, quite the opposite. The white loose fitting tank top made his tan skin stand out even more, and he thought that he could see some of his tattoos through the thin fabric. Together with that one leather necklace that was always around his neck, it made it quite difficult to focus on anything else - damn it, he was hot. But that was also because there was just something about the summer that made Mickey hornier than he usually was. Which was counterproductive, seeing as fucking hardly made it easier to cool off in the hot weather.

 

“You’re not” The words didn’t have much of a questioning tone to them at all, it was more of a statement. Mickey shook his head anyway, however.

 

“Nah, man. I am.” He nodded then - because he was. He loved Trevor, and he liked this place well enough. It wasn’t large, but it was large enough for the two of them, and maybe even Yevgeny whenever he would end up coming there. It was just kind of a strange thought. Moving out. Mickey had always lived in that house with his brothers and with Mandy - sure, for a minute, he had practically lived at the Gallagher house, but it was still similar. Big family, shitty ass house, lots of noise. Moving in with Trevor in their own apartment, it was just… something he would have to get used to. “Just something I gotta get used to, I guess” He repeated his thoughts out loud, and Trevor nodded in understanding, then he took a step forwards, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s waist, tugging him closer.

 

“Well I like the thought of living with you” Mickey bit the inside of his cheek when their faces got closer, and Trevor dodged his lips, instead pressing a kiss to his jawline. These softer touches were also something he had had to get used to. But he found that he liked them - a lot. “Waking up with you” He lifted his head again, their eyes connecting. A second later, Trevor nodded his head towards the door that they knew lead to the apartment’s bedroom, and he added; “In there”

 

“Like real adults or some shit?” Mickey did his best not to grin, but failed miserably when Trevor did so anyway.

 

“Like real adults or some shit” He repeated, and they chuckled together. Then, without the two of them letting go of each other, Mickey looked around the place some more - it had a kitchen, a bathroom, a good sized livingroom, and the bedroom. In other words, it had everything they would need, and it wasn’t even that expensive. Of course, they were still in the same neighborhood - only about five or ten minutes away from the Milkovich house, so it wasn’t sparkling new or anything like that - but it was okay. And it could be theirs.

 

“Yeah, alright. Let’s fucking get it, man”

 

  
***

 

  
“Drinks on the house for that!” Kev stated a couple of days later when Mickey and Trevor were both at the end of the bar, casually letting it slip that they were moving in together. Mickey had to admit that one of his favorite things were sitting here and drinking knowing that he didn’t have to serve - it was a good job, paid well enough, but tiring as all hell. “You know, Mickey, I almost thought you’d be back in prison by now…” He spoke as he opened two bottles of beer, placing them in front of the two men.

 

“Yeah, pretty sure everyone did, man” Mickey wasn’t sure that he would ever admit it out loud, but being in prison had kind of scared him straight - not sexuality wise, but… eh. Anyway, being in juvie, he had always been the big bad wolf - figuratively speaking, he had never been physically big - he had spoken loudly and yelled at people, beat them up, making sure that people were afraid of him. And in actual prison - of course he had tried, of course he had never shown himself as weak, but he had hated it. And never in a million years would he want to go back.

 

“But instead you found yourself a pretty little boyfriend and settled down, how sweet” Trevor laughed, and Mickey flipped him off and Kevin headed towards the other end of the bar, leaving them alone before Mickey beat his brains out.

 

“…Hey” At the familiar voice, the men both spun around on their chairs, Mickey keeping his beer in his hand as he laid eyes on the man that he hadn’t seen in almost a year and a half. His breath almost got caught in his throat; not because he still had feelings for Ian - well, maybe he always would in one way or another - but more so because he looked so good. He looked like a man, like the man he had always wanted to be.

 

The red hair on top of his head had grown out just slightly from a buzzcut, and he had a slight wash of the same color stubble on the bottom part of his face. The upper part of his body was clothed in a tight, black wifebeater, the army fatigue pants still on. As much fucked up shit as they had both been through together, and as many things as Ian had done that Mickey should probably hate him for - he was so fucking happy that Ian had gotten back into the army. That he had gotten a chance to be the twenty one year old man that that sixteen year old boy had always dreamed of being.

 

And yeah, he looked good - not just physically, but there was something in his eyes as well. Peace, maybe.

 

“Hey, man. Didn’t know you were back” Mickey spoke.

 

“Yeah, got back a few hours ago. Leaving in a few months, but it feels good to be home” This was kind of strange - the last time they had seen each other was when Ian had told Mickey that he was leaving, and they had shared a semi-emotional moment, ending with a tight hug. Maybe they had for one moment let themselves forget that they weren’t supposed to be friends. But that was a long time ago, so now what?

 

Trevor just kind of stayed on the sidelines, quietly observing them. He and Ian may have been together, but it was an even longer time ago, and it had only been for a couple of months. They didn’t have much to say to each other at all. It wasn’t even awkward, just… forgotten. Not like Ian and Mickey.

 

“Well, I just overheard Kev saying you were moving in together. Thought I’d say congratulations… or something” Ian chuckled slightly awkwardly, and Mickey and Trevor both smiled, nodding.

 

“Thanks” Trevor said.

 

“And even thought some stuff went down, I’m happy for you two. And I wanted to make sure that we’re all good” Mickey couldn’t decide if the words sounded rehearsed or not - maybe, maybe not. Either way, it sounded kind of nice.

 

“Yeah, man.” Mickey nodded. “All good” He promised.

 

After that, Ian and Mickey looked each other in the eyes, and they shared a warm smile. One that said that even though they weren’t together anymore - even though they would never be, and even though Mickey was completely in love with somebody else now - they would always care for each other.

 

And yeah - they were all good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would technically have time to start the La Vie En Rose sequel soon, but would anybody even still care? Lmao. Everyone's left, I'm deserted.


End file.
